Detached

August

2012-02-07T08:47:00.000-08:00

The Benzini Brothers was the best circus in town. Everybody knew that. Their acts were unmatched; their reputation, renowned.And never were they more renowned, than when August was their ringmaster.

Oh, to watch August in his ring. How the crowds loved him. How they cheered. He would come trooping in when the music reached its crescendo, resplendent in his red coat, top hat and boots…magnificent was an understatement.

Every minute that August held the ring, he held the crowd. When he raised his hand, he raised the collective consciousness of the people. His hands flowed, his eyes danced, and his voice…

Many pages may be devoted to August’s voice. It was said that he could make the clowns weep and send the lions scurrying for their mothers merely with the sound of his voice.

I was enthralled by August. Every night that they were in town I would pester father to take me and I would always sit, eager, in the first row, gazing at the man; taking the show in. I saw no lions, no elephants, no dancing girls, no fools; I saw August and I was thrilled every time I did.

August had a ritual. Every show he followed it, with religious fervour. Every show, he would stride in, and wait for a few seconds of absolute silence. He knew exactly how long to wait.

To Art, he would say. And the show would begin.

In silence, again:

To Beauty, he would say. And the show would end.

….

Of course, I grew older. And yet, over the years, I kept coming back for the show. August, too grew old. But his showmanship never left him. His majesty did not wane. He continued to enthrall and awe our children and our grandchildren just as he had enthralled us. And he never once forgot his ritual.

I am old now. And yet, I still think of August. I wonder about him. We meet many people in our lives. How many do we wonder about?

August could have gone anywhere, been anything. He could have run for President, become a banker, and yet, he did not. And I know, that even amongst August’s own show there were those that were just as talented as he was. The Acrobats performed death defying stunts every day. The clowns had every audience in splits. And still, they were not August. I had many heated conversations about him. Many times would I argue, as to why August was…well…August. Many of these arguments were in my own head.

In the end, I think mother put it best;

He is Beauty’s son. And he follows her and serves her with a devotion few on this world can match. He is Beauty’s son, and Beauty herself raised him. Proud? He is proud. He is proud, veering on arrogant, that he alone can see Beauty and that he alone knows how to present her. He is humble, in that he knows that he is not Beauty.

Behold, I send one before me so that he may prepare the way for the one to come.

August is the voice in the wilderness that cries out, so that the people may be drawn, and that they may see Beauty. That departing they may make their lives sublime, knowing that others have made footprints in the sands of time.

August, my dear child, is as in awe of Beauty as Beauty is in awe of him.

And why then does he start with Art?

Because August is also human.

AN: Is he the stage-builder or the star attraction? Depends on where you’re standing.

Kataklysmic

2012-01-23T08:09:00.000-08:00

I write this to record what was. I wish this to be a testimonial of what happened when I interacted with pure, innocent, randomness.

I am attracted to randomness. It appeals to the order in me, and it reveals the anarchy I keep controlled.

AN: I've always believed that every moment validates itself. Nothing that happens after can ever take away from it.

....

We were in his car. And he honestly had no idea where we were.

I could see the beach ahead. it was beautiful. And I could hear the waves, and feel the breeze; a lazy sunday afternoon. Sigh.

He looked relaxed, as always. Everything is always taken in his stride, and there is nothing that he cannot do. It is the source of his confidence. If you've seen him perturbed, you must see him a lot.

This is beautiful.

Yeah, I know.

This is...real beautiful.

Uh huh, you've said that.

It looks like a movie, like a dream. Are you sure you'll still be here when I open my eyes?

Grin. A real charmer, when he wanted to be.

I'm worried. I'm worried about , and I'm worried about...this...and....that and...

His finger was on my lips in an instant.

Shhhh.

No one worries when I'm around.

I remember thinking that this was so cliche.

When one of us nearly hit the horn, we pulled apart;

for an instant, he laughed softly.

....

Thank you.

So courteous, every kiss was thanked. Like I'd done him a favour.

Come, it's time to leave.

He started the car, we moved forward. And as the full beauty of the beach came up over the slope, he stopped.

Hey you.

Hey, whats up.

I need a favour.

Yeah?

Like a big favour.

Ok.

I want you to do something for me. Can you do that?

Er...sure.

Can you look where I'm pointing.

Huh?
Where?

There.

He was quick, I'll give him that.

This time we pulled away because the car went back down the slope in reverse; quite fast.

Luckily, he pulled the handbrake in time.

....

There were other incidents. Small acts of...being cliche, of being him;

of being me.

....

Was what I did wrong?

Who do you think you are?

Am I fake?

Am I terrible?

Collecting your jar of hearts?

Am I fake?

I never walk in the middle of the road. It's not in my nature.

Beauty

2012-01-22T07:25:00.001-08:00

The problem with me, is that everything is directed at you, and also not at you.

We'd first heard of him over a year back.

Wolf was a terrible creature.

Mad, crazed with fear and hunger, he preyed on anything he found. The remains he left were not pretty. The villagers were terrified...and in awe of him. He scared their children and he inspired them.

K brought him in. I have no idea how she managed it, it cost her dearly, but she still did. Many stronger men than her had tried and failed. Foolishly, we put him in a cage meant for the other animals.

He broke the bars and then, almost casually, picked the lock.

We put him in a stronger cage after that, and we studied him.

He seemed to need no food. that's what we realized first. He ate little, if at all. and yet the stories of his carcasses he'd left in the jungle still haunted the villagers.

There also seemed to be no reasonable limit we could put on his strength.

A foolish shrink from the south had the brilliant idea of sending in some deer to "see him in action".
we're still trying to get the blood off the bars.

....

And so time passed. We could neither understand Wolf nor get him to understand us.
Music seemed to help him. Play Bach and he would sit and listen to it like he was dying. Nothing else helped, nothing.

....

I gave up on Wolf after a while. We all did. All my theses about him had come to nought.

Which is why we could scarce believe our eyes when it happened.

He'd managed to pick the lock again. And someone had walked right in. How she'd got here, I don't know. But there she knelt right beside him. The room seemed to glow.

Beauty.

Beauty.

She was watching him. And he was watching her. His eyes were guarded, and his hands clenched.

Nothing moved.

Why didn't I shoot then? I'll never know.

After what seemed like forever, he broke her gaze and turned away. She still stood there, watching him.

There was an eternity of silence.

Suddenly, he turned back around and howled. He bared his teeth and raised his hands to strike.

The dart whose path I'd diverted stood lodged in the wall behind him; quivering.

There was silence.

God help me. I closed the door and walked away.

They would speak; sometimes they would talk not at all, and sometimes, they would talk for hours on end. Sometimes, they would just sit and stare at each other.

Polite, soft spoken , courteous. Everyone thought well of him. A real charmer.

I was uneasy.

....

When he killed the deer it nearly broke Beauty. I have never seen a woman so desperate to....want to believe.There was lot of shattered innocence, and a lot of spattered blood.

And yet, she stayed.

Why? She would not say.

.....

Beauty was perfection. In every breath she took she echoed the perfection of her Creator. The world waited on her. And when she walked, the world closed its eyes, for to look on her, as she was, was impossible.

And so there was shadow. And in there shadow was Beast.

Beauty found beast. The part of her that cared for the world could sense him.

She doesn't see me the as I am- a hideous relic of a horrendous accident. She looks at me, and there is such a sense uf... pride. Rhere is no other word for it. she's proud of me; despite it all, despite all I've done.

And every day, i breathe that image into my head, of Beauty smiling at me, and pray for the strength to stand.

Maybe, I helped her as well.

.....

K was in front of me. Crouched against the sun, she drew a line on the ground.

I want you to vouch for yourself. I don't care who you are, Wolf. I don't care what people say about you.
I want you, to promise me.

YOU WILL NOT HURT HER.

And i placed my hand.
And left my mark.

.....

The Moonlight Sonata

2011-11-02T09:16:00.000-07:00

Two beings on either side of a glass wall.
He-half mad with desire, pain and loss. She- serene, beautiful,pure...
dead.

He reaches for the wall.

His fingers touch the glass.

They keep pushing.
...

My beautiful wife, Athena, died exactly a year ago...today.
To say that i went mad with grief would be putting it lightly.

For hours he would sit there, staring at the wall-without moving, without eating. I would leave him for days and would return to find him exactly as he was. When he slept, he dreamt of her. When he was awake, he still dreamt.

The neighbours all said what a tragedy it was.

Such a brilliant mind, they said.

So young, they said.

He was barely twenty seven.

...

I would see her standing before me, dancing; and when I stretched out my hand...nothing.I touched only air.I hated life, and all that it had robbed me off. I wished to reach into my still-beating heart, tear it out and give it to her.

Take it.
Take it, and bring her back.

...

The glass shatters against him.

His bloodied hand reaches in, for his wife.

She is confused for a second. She reaches for him.

His face...his face...a visage of pure longing.

Their hands meet.

The scene fades away.

...

My beautiful wife, Athena, died exactly a year ago...today.
I brought her back.

Can you imagine how happy I was? Can you even begin to imagine?
Like a child,like a mad fool, I danced around the house. I laughed with random strangers on the road. I had brought the only woman ever to have lived, the only woman I had ever loved, back to life.

You think I'm mad, don't you?

I AM NOT MAD.

Look at her. Look at her I say! She's standing in front of us.

Joy returned to my house that day. I was ecstatic.

...

A month passed.
...

I'd made...a mistake.

Even as i write this, I know that the end is near. I know that i have ...done wrong.I have ...done wrong..in going after the only thing that ever mattered to me.
I leave this world with a message.
Whoever you are, wherever you may be-listen to me.

We all do love. I have loved more than any man I know.

"...In sickness and in death..."

I crossed death in the pursuit of love. I brought my wife back to life.

And it was Athena, again with me!

But as the days passed, I realized what i had done. It was Athena, but at the same time it was not her.

She would sit on my lap, just as beautiful as she ever was, and yet she was not there. Her eyes, would cloud over. Her hands would tremble. She would sit silently for hours.

When I spoke to her, she would respond. But at other times...nothing.

Nothing.

I could not stand it. Having a dream come to life, and life..becoming a nightmare.

Touching everything, feeling nothing.
Comprehending nothing.

I who had lost my mind at gut-wrenching loss, now began to lose my mind at unrequited gain.

Do not force love, it is akin to crushing a rose.
It is like expecting a dove to fly after it has been bled dry;
living a lie.

As I take this dagger for myself, I must tell you, dearly beloved, not to grieve for me.
Those that work against God often find that He has been working inexorably against them...drawing them home.

...

He said he'd brought that which was dead, to life.
Funny man.
The dead are not meant to live.
...

In a glass orb on my desk, the couple dances. And the sonata plays on.

...

A shoulder to cry on

2011-09-18T08:36:00.000-07:00

Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on.

You know how it goes; it's been a crap day. Nothing seems to be going your way. You want to just crawl under your bed and cry.

Yes, I've been there.
Everyone has, actually.

...
Rhodes was a tough cop; one of the best they said. What struck me as remarkable about the man was his sheer....level-headedness. In the six months I've been on the force, I've stood and watched him shoot seven men. His hand never wavered. I've seen him look on crime scenes, on what's left of people after crime scenes; corpses so badly off you can't tell if they're man or woman, old or young...he never said a word.

September 16, 1989:

It had been one rough week. Three people were dead already. Scratch that, they weren't dead,they were worse than dead. Charlie "the artist" Sheen was in town. He didn't just kill his victims; he made paintings on the walls with them.
It was around midnight when I got a call; another victim. My hand shook as I called Rhodes;

Charlie...another one. 54, Second street.

That's all I needed to say.

He was there before me. As I pushed the door open, I saw the man standing there. Tall, angling, a man in his late forties, already greying around the temples.

He was standing very still, looking at the far side of the room, at the north wall.

I followed his gaze.

...

This part of the narrative is left out.

Grace Kimberly, aged ten, died on September 16th 1989. It took a Med team eighteen hours before the parents were even allowed in to see her body.

,,,,

I will always remember Rhodes' expression that night. His eyes were looking at the wall, but they didn't seem to be seeing it. I was standing next to him, but he didn't seem to be aware of me, either.

It is a terrible feeling...arriving too late.

He raised his gun and fired a shot straight into the ceiling.

Then he went home.

....

Of course, he caught Charlie.
And Charlie was hanged.
But I swear to God, I do not know how Rhodes made it through that night.
It took me several hours to clean the vomit from my walls.

...

When Irene heard her husband come home that morning; she went to him at once. They had been married long enough; she knew when something was wrong.

They stood there for a moment, in the hallway, looking at each other.

He, the tall, powerful city cop.

She, his wife- so small and frail against him.

And suddenly, John Rhodes seemed to fold. His mighty frame crumpled, and he slumped against his wife.

So young...so young...So bloody young, Irene..

Hush, baby....it's alright. It's alright. It's going to be alright.I'm here now.
It's okay.
I'm here.

Great, powerful sobs racked through thr grown man's body.

It's okay.
Honey, you hear me. It's okay. I'm here.
It's okay.

He let out a cry of pure,desperate unhappiness then, of inhuman pain; of the lion that had arrived too late, of a heart torn apart by grief.

The cry went on.

She held him tighter.

Baby, I'm here.

They held each other for hours.

....

In my time of need, I will call you. Be there for me.

Talents

2011-09-17T03:06:00.000-07:00

Is he dead?

What happened? What happened?

He's dead. No, he's not.

What happened to him?

Look at his eyes.

What's wrong with his eyes?

What is wrong with his eyes?

Oh my God.

...

13 “Therefore stay alert, because you do not know the day or the hour. 14 For it is like a man going on a journey, who summoned his slaves and entrusted his property to them. 15 To one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. 16 The one who had received five talents went off right away and put his money to work270 and gained five more. 17 In the same way, the one who had two gained two more. 18 But the one who had received one talent went out and dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money in it, and the worms ate at the talent 19 After a long time, the master of those slaves came and settled his accounts with them. 20 The one who had received the five talents came and brought five more, saying, ‘Sir, you entrusted me with five talents. See, I have gained five more.’ 21 His master answered, ‘Well done, good and faithful slave! You have been faithful in a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.’ 22 The one with the two talents also came and said, ‘Sir, you entrusted two talents to me. See, I have gained two more.’ 23 His master answered, ‘Well done, good and faithful slave! You have been faithful with a few things. I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.’ 24 Then the one who had received the one talent came and said, ‘Sir, I knew that you were a hard man, harvesting where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed, 25 so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. See, you have what is yours.’ 26 But his master answered, ‘Evil and lazy slave! So you knew that I harvest where I didn’t sow and gather where I didn’t scatter? 27 Then you should have deposited my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received my money back with interest! 28 Therefore take the talent from him and give it to the one who has ten. 29 For the one who has will be given more, and he will have more than enough. But the one who does not have, even what he has will be taken from him. 30 And throw that worthless slave into the outer darkness, and set my demon onto him.
30 There will be much weeping and gnashing of teeth’” (Matthew 25:13-30).

....

A terrible scream broke through the night.

No ! Please. No! Who are you ? What are you? What do you want from me?
Speak ! Why won't you speak?

There was a deathly chill in the air.
The figure removed his hood.

The boy gasped, and fell back, horrified.

He began screaming again.

The figure raised his hand and flung his scythe.
The screaming stopped, abruptly.
...

Nathaniel 25:13-30

You want to know who I am?

I am the boy who watched you grow up; the one who watched as you excelled in everything you touched; who gasped with wonder and amazement at the smallest of your feats. I am the sister who stayed up all night, doing your work, while you slept.I am the brother who stood by; and watched with a pride that knows no words, as you climbed higher and higher. I cried Ben, and I gave thanks to God, for the wonders that He had bestowed on you.

And as I cried, I wept.

I am the father who cut out his arm so that you may have whatever you wanted. I am the one who wept as he saw his only son, the son for whom he would die, turn into the worst sort of abomination possible.

I am Nathaniel.

Your father, has not known proper sleep for the past three years. Your mother cries herself to bed every night.

You disgust me.
Pathetic excuse for a soul;
you disgust me.

He gave you everything. Everything!
Who are you to throw it away?

So much of talent, so many gifts; you were like a prince, like a God-His favourite child. And what did you do?
What did you do?

You squandered it all away like a filthy, ungrateful animal.

You drank. You smoked. You did weed. You shacked up with every wench that would have you.

Have you no shame? Have you no honour?

What right have you got that entitles you to fritter away that which is not yours?
Who are you to decide that that which He has given you is fit only to be used to get your next whore into bed?

No man has the right to choose to waste his talents. They are not his, to begin with.
No such man deserves to live.

I pity you Ben; you had it all, and in a few minutes, when I carve out your heart and leave you here- you're going to wish you were dead.

You are dead to me now,
brother.

The master does not forgive.

Ayin tachat ayin.

Flaunt

2011-09-08T07:42:00.000-07:00

The element of flaunt.

There is a small part of us that wants to be noticed.
So we laugh a little louder than strictly necessary.

Especially true of women.

Coming soon.

1.15

2011-09-03T07:29:00.000-07:00

It's a quarter after one.

You all know the song.

It's funny isn't it? How you can have a lot of things going your way one minute and the next-
this.

You're stuck at home watching romantic comedies on your computer, going to bed every night drunk on regret, among other things.

....

It was a nice house. Anyone who saw it would tell you that. It had a lawn, and a pool, a cozy porch. A lot of the house bespoke a woman's touch.

"Bespoke", nice word. It's a verb actually. Only problem is- it's in the past tense.

Hey, it's me; again.
I was um... thinking...about you, and thought i'd give you a call, just to-just to sorta check up on you.

It's amazing the kind of lies people can come up with, and sometimes rather desperately hope for everyone else to believe.

Like she wouldn't know the truth.

I thought someone told me that they wouldn't call

Her tone was icy. He hadn't expected much else.

Yeah well...I just was feeling a bit...

Pause.

Ok.

Pause.
Oh well, he'd called now.

So,er, how are you doing, beautiful?

A memory;

The sound of laughter.
Do you think I'm beautiful.
Of course da.
You're lying.

The sound of a person unsure-wanting to be reassured.

I'm not.
Ok.

I'm doing alright. How you doing?

Alright, I guess.

So...

So.

Listen, I've been meaning to tell you some..something.

Pause.

Babe, have you been drinking?

She could almost hear the guilty shifting the other end.

Well..

Babe?

Ok, a little bit.

A little bit?

Yeah, just a little bit.

Promise?

Promise.

Hmmm.

Look, I had a real rough day alright? Cut me some slack.

He could almost hear her pursing her lips.

Alright.What happened?

Mumbling.

What happened?

Just sorta...some...stuff. People...annoying me.

Some...stuff?

Yeah, stuff.

Another memory:

You're an uncommunicative, crazy man.
Yeah, I guess.
Don't you grin at me. You're not getting off that easy this time. How am I supposed to help you if you won't tell me what happened?
Umm..You could tell me you love me, give me a hug and buy me some chocolate.
Very funny.
No, seriously- chocolate-
Ahem.
Yes dear.
Don't you "Yes dear",me.
Yes dear.
Sigh.

Annoying, he was; and also slightly adorable-slightly.

That's bad. What can I do to help?

Through the mumbling the words, "Come home" were audible.

What?

Nothing.

Ok.

So..yeah. 'k, I'll call-I'll call later then?

There was a slight breaking of the voice.

Ok.

Bye.

Bye.

Of course, he never told her what he'd really called for. He didn't tell her that he was sorry for what he'd done. That he had thought that pushing her away was the only way things would ever work out. That he'd been a bloody idiot. That he'd messed up.

No.

How do you explain to a woman that her affection had been considered a needless luxury? That her heart had been the first casualty in an inhumano process of de-humanization? That all the brilliance in the world hadn't stopped a man being an utter fool?

And now?

And now, when he had jumped freely into the pit of his ambition, he found that he had no wings to carry him; no hands to catch him as he fell; and no joy to make the work worth living

You won't know what you've got till it's gone, they say.
They were right, of course; whoever "they" were. 'xept it wasn't much help now.
Nothing was, really.

He'd like to put down every cliche that he'd ever seen or read. That if he had a chance to turn back time and do one thing right in his life-it would be the decision to call it quits. That she should take him back, even though he didn't deserve it.
That things would be different, this time around.

Of course, he never told her all this. He kept the phone, and slumped back into a stupor.

.....

The beautiful part of it all,

is that she called back.

.....

The Hunchback

2011-08-31T08:23:00.000-07:00

Don't read this post if you can't stand sad things.

There was once a Hunchback. He was a real beast-ugly, deformed, crooked,bent. Picture Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame. No, not the Disney version.

He lived in the ice, this Hunchback. He killed what creatures he could find. He ate them. He did not bother with a fire.
He survived.

Several years passed this way.

One day, as he was making his way back to the hole he called home, he spotted a strange light in the distance. That was odd. He hobbled towards the light.

As he neared, the light became exponentially brighter. Shielding his eyes, he hobbled on.

When he finally found the source, he could barely see. Pawing at his streaming eyes, he cried out in anguish. He shut his eyes, and then slowly opened them again.

He stared. His skin began to burn.

He saw a strange being lying on the ice. It was taller than the Hunchback. It had slender limbs, dark, black long hair and pale almost translucent skin.

The Hunchback stared harder, transfixed.

It was a woman. But the Hunchback didn't know that.

He just stared, struck dumb.

Picture the scene then, if you will: The strange woman lying, apparently asleep on the snow; and the Hunchback. She-a creature from Heaven-ethereal, angelic. He-a creature from the farthest depths of Hell-a face that even a mother would have difficulty loving.

The Hunchback howled. How he howled! The fish in the sea heard him, and they dove deeper. The creatures of the ice heard him, and they lay still.

A cry of pure, inhuman pain tore through the Tundra.

He howled because he had nothing. He howled at the inequity in creation- that bestowed on him the form of the lowliest wretch that crawls in the mud, and on her the form of a God. He howled because the purity of her loveliness seared at his skin like a burning flame-scorching, throwing into sharp relief the shadows that marred him.

.....

She's so beautiful.

She's so beautiful.

She's so bloody beautiful.

Drunk, bereft of all reason, a beggar clutched at his chest and howled at the moon.

He clutched as if to tear out his heart and give it to her.

...

Take it.

Take everything I have: all that i am, all that I will be, the worlds i control. All i ask is that you give me a chance to be with you.

...

Who the F&^k is he? He knows nothing. Nothing of who you are, of what you deserve.

And yet, I know that you may never be mine.

...

I don't need to know how much.

But-

I don't need to know how much. I don't care. Take the money, just make sure she's happy. Anything she wants, anything she needs- she should have.

But-

Don't Argue.

Yes, sir.

And understand this, she should not know that it's me. Never. Let her think that she did it, or the Gods did it, or that he did it- I don't care. But she should not know it's me- understand?

Yes, sir.

....

And I knew, that he knew, that he could never have her.

...

Savin' Me

2011-08-14T23:41:00.000-07:00

There's a room.
The room is like a cell in a prison. There are bars, and grey light, lots of it, shining dully through. Everything is grey.
...
He stood in one corner of the room; with his back to me.
I called his name.
There was no answer.
I called his name again, louder this time, but still hardly louder than a whisper.
He did not turn.

Babe, look at me.

Suddenly, he turned; he hurtled across the room and hurled himself against the bars. There was a terrifying crash.

The lady did not draw back.

Prison gates won't open up for me
On these hands and knees I'm crawlin'
I reach for you

I'm terrified of these four walls
These iron bars can't hold my soul in
All I need is you

I did not draw back. I did not draw back because I knew that to do so would break his spirit. I could see his soul. His knuckles whitened.
He had been inside for over a month now; thirty days. Week on week of trials; of being dragged to court had corroded even him. I died inside every time I came here.

You'll never make it past forty. son. They'll assassinate you before that.
A joke.
I'll let myself be assassinated then . I'll make a dramatic resurrection.
His own sense of humour.

Only, when I make a resurrection, there will be no angels singing. There won't be too much forgiving either.
Aw, not your style, eh?
Nope.
Bad press, son.
I'll reword that: There will be angels singing, and a lot of forgiving. Only, some people won't be able to hear too well by then.
...

Heaven's gates won't open up for me
With these broken wings I'm fallin'
And all I see is you

These city walls ain't got no love for me
I'm on the ledge of the eighteenth storey
And all I scream for you

Come please I'm callin'

In the early years, I used to be curious about his beliefs.
Do you believe in Heaven?
Yeah, i do.
Do you believe that you'll get there?
I don't really care too much, to be perfectly honest.
That's crazy. How can you not care?
Where are you going?
Well, I want to go to heaven...
Then I'll get there.

Doesn't it bother you that some people don't like you? I mean, I know for a fact that she doesn't. she hates your guts, actually.
Thanks, babe.
She'd pretty much plunge a knife into you, given half the chance...
Uh huh, Charming.
I mean..
I got it.
Yeah, so, doesn't it bother you at all? Not one bit?
Do you love me.
Of course, but she-
That's enough for me.

...

Show me what it's like
To be the last one standing
And teach me wrong from right
And I'll show you what I can be
Say it for me
Say it to me
And I'll leave this life behind me
Say it if it's worth saving me

She knew that he had done it for her: that he had acted against his will. And she knew that she was the only one with the power to make him do that.

She treasured the gift;
but knew that it was not one to be used often or lightly, lest it break against him.

The Dragon's Heart.

2011-08-07T02:44:00.000-07:00

With blood shot eyes I watch you sleeping
The warmth I feel beside me is slowly fading.

I place a hand on your face.

And I wonder,

Would you hear me, if I call your name
Would you hold me, if you knew my shame.

You would?

Hold me then, and know my pain.

I am different inside. I am like no one I have ever met. Ever heard people say, the brighter the picture, the darker the negative?
It was written for me.
You know how bright my picture is;but do you know how dark my negative is?
You cannot begin to imagine.

Here's a story.

There was once a dragon. He was good, mighty and strong. There was none like him in all the land. He flew over the villages by day, protecting the villagers, helping those in need, maintaining law, preaching the good news, being the hero.And by night..?

No one saw him.

The dragon flew into the forest, and the villagers saw him not from sunset to sunrise.

Now, there was one little girl who fell in love with the dragon. Everyday she would wait for him to rise, and every sunset she would watch sadly as he flew away.

He flies away far too early, she thought.

This happened for a year.
And then, one day, she decided to follow the dragon.

....
As the sun began to set, the girl followed the dragon. How she managed to keep pace with a flying beast is not told.
Love gives you wings, they say.

She followed him deep into the forest, past the bog, the cold, and past all manner of forest creatures
She followed him, until finally, she came upon a big cave.
She went in.
.....

The girl spent five nights in the cave. And then she ran from that place, never to return. What she saw there she refused to tell anyone.
.....

When i finally tracked down Isabella, she was quite old. I heard her story, as I have put it down here. And then I asked her the question I am sure she must have been asked several times before,

What did you see?

I can't tell you that.

Why not?

Why is it important for you to know.

Silence.

I told her.

I've been married for a year now.My husband is a wonderful man. In fact,I would go as far as saying, he is the epitome of a perfect man. But after a year of being married to him; I am convinced that there is something he is not telling me. He speaks openly enough. And yet, at times, it feels like he's speaking in code. I tracked down every woman he's ever been with:they all told me the same thing.

He keeps secrets.

Finally, unable to take my pleading, he told me (what he sincerely believes) is the reason he will not, cannot, share.

The brighter the picture, the darker the negative.

...

That's it?

That's it. That's all he said. And that's all he would say.

And what makes you think my answer will help you understand what your husband told you?

Call it a woman's intuition, Isabella.

There was silence after that.

...

There are things in this world dear, that people hardly speak of- but are aware of all the time. Among these is something I call Aura. It is the image of a man-that which enters a room before he does, and that which fills the room when he unleashes his spirit. Have you ever seen an artist grow to fill every pore of the space he performs in? The dragon had the strongest aura I had ever seen. Far greater than any man- but then again, he was no man to begin with.

Our auras make us likest Gods.

Now, what these auras do is this- they ensnare people. They spin out, through whispered conversations and overblown exaggerations, until they ensnare everyone. And the person they ensnare most of all-

Is the one to whom they belong.

They ensnare the person so much that that person starts to fear, with a terrible and uncontrollable fear,the smallest of things that will tarnish his aura, and expose that which is human beneath.

Everyone hates to find that their idol has clay feet. But my child, think on this, every idol has clay feet.

You husband has nothing terrible to hide from you.
He is afraid of what you would say should you see beyond his aura.

That's bullshi*. My husband cannot be afraid of sharing things with his own wife.

Perhaps dear child, he has shared before, and the little girl ran away when she saw the dragon's heart.

Two things I will tell you-

The first is this;
Even the Gods bleed, but they prefer to bleed in private. Or in the company of those that will not run when they see the blood

The second is this:
Your husband wakes up sweating in the night, often.

....

I said nothing then,

It was true.

The Human Spirit.

2011-08-06T06:11:00.000-07:00

Why was the boy so different. What made him so special.

.....

I had been asking myself this for a while now.

He looked normal.

In fact, if he sat in a crowd of people, and he was trying hard not to be noticed (which he usually was), you would not notice him.

He was sitting by himself when I first saw him. Which in itself was odd, I thought. I somehow expected to find him surrounded by a crowd of cronies, sycophantically applauding his every move.

And again, he looked quite...normal. He was staring at the performance on stage with a rather faraway expression on his face.

I gave him a closer look.

No, there was definitely no "air of greatness" that was radiating off him; no "superhuman levels of intelligence".

In fact the only thing that I could pick up was..well...a sense of...solitude-of wanting to be left alone.

Strange,very strange.

Mike called for me then, so i went; and the strange boy slipped to the back of my mind.

......

A few days later I chanced on him again. Again...he was alone. And again there was that same air about him.

I remember wondering if he had any friends at all.
I did not speak to him.

This happened thrice.
....
Don't you ever talk to anyone, I asked him, finally.
He seemed surprised.
Nope, he said. I'm anti-social.
Yeah right. Dude, you're the President of the college. You campaigned, you won. You have a thousand friends on Facebook (Oh alright, I admit it-I was curious). You have a million fans all over the place. You can't be anti-social.

He turned to face me then.

You see me talking to anyone over the past few days you've been watching me, miss?
Hey! (I was stung). I wasn't watching you!
He grinned.

Ok, if you say so.

I decided that this would be a good time for me to leave.
I left.
.....
Alright, I believe you-you are anti-social.
I hadn't seen him talk to anyone the next day either.
Yes, I am. He didn't seem quite so happy today though.
Care to talk 'bout it, I asked.
No. Curt.
Rude bum.
Alright, fine-suit yourself.
I turned away.
His face clouded.
Look, I'm sorry, I just have a lot on my mind right about now.
Care to talk about it, I asked again.
He looked at me, strangely.
Let's get a coffee, he said finally.
....
We went to Hot Breads.
He didn't choose CCD.
Don't like crowds, he muttered when I looked at him quizzically.

This from a boy who routinely addresses two thousand odd people.
Stranger and Stranger.

He walked straight in, without a sidewards glance at anyone else. The waiter recognized him. He came here often apparently.
He ordered an espresso. I ordered a chocolate muffin.

...
By now I was starting to get comfortable. I smiled.
He, by contrast, looked like he was sitting across the Grim Reaper.
Um...so, i said.
Ah, he said.
Look, I'm not really used to doing this. I don't usually take people out. I don't drink coffee with people. You'll have to excuse me if this whole thing turns out to be a disaster.
He blurted this out at top speed.

So definitely not a player then.

He genuinely looked distressed.
Hey, relax. I won't eat you. And I can talk for both of us;don't you worry. I will not blame you if this turns out to be a disaster.

I smiled again, just to enforce the point.
He looked marginally relieved.

Relax, I said.

What shall we start with?
I have a list of conversation topics, he mumbled.
I laughed so hard, i nearly spilt his coffee.
We spoke for three hours.
.....

Here are the thoughts I wrote down in my diary that night.

"....he is arrogant. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind about that. He is incredibly arrogant. And still....he is quite humble as well. There seems to be a curious mix here. He is at once, both unemotional and quite passionate. He speaks quite plainly of death, and destruction. He was also incredibly fascinated with a baby that was in the next table.
He is at once, both a gentleman and a rogue. He opened and held every door I walked through. He also spoke so shamefacedly about how he was once almost defeated in a debate by a woman (no less), that I almost throttled him.
He is an accomplished liar. And incredibly honest. He can lie so easily, and so convincingly that you find yourself wanting to believe him.
He is plain. He is complicated. He is kind, he is brutal.
What is beautiful, and here I finally realized why people are drawn to him, is his...intensity.
There is no other word for it.
As I write this, I imagine him to be a rock-steady, solid yet plain and unremarkable.
But beneath that rock- there a fierce and riveting beauty. A force that he seems in control of, most of the time
It manifests itself when he makes speeches, when he acts, when he argues, when he makes music, when he looks at you
...and grins"

When I look at him now, stretched out on the sofa, asleep- I am both incredibly proud, and incredibly amazed.

The human spirit has not died.
It is just harder to find, these days.

The prosecution of God

2011-08-05T03:00:00.001-07:00

http://db.tt/HVwLdjw

The Days of Chivalry

2011-05-05T23:43:00.001-07:00

This is an excerpt from "Mill on the Floss", by Elliot. This excerpt is for Miss Srunika Kannan. I call her attention to the last paragraph.

One afternoon, when the chestnuts were coming into flower, Maggie had brought her chair outside the front door, and was seated there with a book on her knees. Her dark eyes had wandered from the book, but they did not seem to be enjoying the sunshine which pierced the screen of jasmine on the projecting porch at her right, and threw leafy shadows on her pale round cheek; they seemed rather to be searching for something that was not disclosed by the sunshine. It had been a more miserable day than usual; her father, after a visit of Wakem's had had a paroxysm of rage, in which for some trifling fault he had beaten the boy who served in the mill. Once before, since his illness, he had had a similar paroxysm, in which he had beaten his horse, and the scene had left a lasting terror in Maggie's mind. The thought had risen, that some time or other he might beat her mother if she happened to speak in her feeble way at the wrong moment. The keenest of all dread with her was lest her father should add to his present misfortune the wretchedness of doing something irretrievably disgraceful. The battered school-book of Tom's which she held on her knees could give her no fortitude under the pressure of that dread; and again and again her eyes had filled with tears, as they wandered vaguely, seeing neither the chestnut-trees, nor the distant horizon, but only future scenes of home-sorrow.
Suddenly she was roused by the sound of the opening gate and of footsteps on the gravel. It was not Tom who was entering, but a man in a sealskin cap and a blue plush waistcoat, carrying a pack on his back, and followed closely by a bullterrier of brindled coat and defiant aspect.
"Oh, Bob, it's you!" said Maggie, starting up with a smile of pleased recognition, for there had been no abundance of kind acts to efface the recollection of Bob's generosity; "I'm so glad to see you."
"Thank you, Miss," said Bob, lifting his cap and showing a delighted face, but immediately relieving himself of some accompanying embarrassment by looking down at his dog, and saying in a tone of disgust, "Get out wi' you, you thunderin' sawney!"
"My brother is not at home yet, Bob," said Maggie; "he is always at St. Ogg's in the daytime."
"Well, Miss," said Bob, "I should be glad to see Mr. Tom, but that isn't just what I'm come for,–look here!"
Bob was in the act of depositing his pack on the door-step, and with it a row of small books fastened together with string.
Apparently, however, they were not the object to which he wished to call Maggie's attention, but rather something which he had carried under his arm, wrapped in a red handkerchief.
"See here!" he said again, laying the red parcel on the others and unfolding it; "you won't think I'm a-makin' too free, Miss, I hope, but I lighted on these books, and I thought they might make up to you a bit for them as you've lost; for I heared you speak o' picturs,–an' as for picturs, look here!"
The opening of the red handkerchief had disclosed a superannuated "Keepsake" and six or seven numbers of a "Portrait Gallery," in royal octavo; and the emphatic request to look referred to a portrait of George the Fourth in all the majesty of his depressed cranium and voluminous neckcloth.
"There's all sorts o' genelmen here," Bob went on, turning over the leaves with some excitement, "wi' all sorts o' nones,–an' some bald an' some wi' wigs,–Parlament genelmen, I reckon. An' here," he added, opening the "Keepsake,"–"here's ladies for you, some wi' curly hair and some wi' smooth, an' some a-smiling wi' their heads o' one side, an' some as if they were goin' to cry,–look here,–a-sittin' on the ground out o' door, dressed like the ladies I'n seen get out o' the carriages at the balls in th' Old Hall there. My eyes! I wonder what the chaps wear as go a-courtin' 'em! I sot up till the clock was gone twelve last night, a-lookin' at 'em,–I did,–till they stared at me out o' the picturs as if they'd know when I spoke to 'em. But, lors! I shouldn't know what to say to 'em. They'll be more fittin' company for you, Miss; and the man at the book-stall, he said they banged iverything for picturs; he said they was a fust-rate article."
"And you've bought them for me, Bob?" said Maggie, deeply touched by this simple kindness. "How very, very good of you! But I'm afraid you gave a great deal of money for them."
"Not me!" said Bob. "I'd ha' gev three times the money if they'll make up to you a bit for them as was sold away from you, Miss. For I'n niver forgot how you looked when you fretted about the books bein' gone; it's stuck by me as if it was a pictur hingin' before me. An' when I see'd the book open upo' the stall, wi' the lady lookin' out of it wi' eyes a bit like your'n when you was frettin',–you'll excuse my takin' the liberty, Miss,–I thought I'd make free to buy it for you, an' then I bought the books full o' genelmen to match; an' then"–here Bob took up the small stringed packet of books–"I thought you might like a bit more print as well as the picturs, an' I got these for a sayso,–they're cram-full o' print, an' I thought they'd do no harm comin' along wi' these bettermost books. An' I hope you won't say me nay, an' tell me as you won't have 'em, like Mr. Tom did wi' the suvreigns."
"No, indeed, Bob," said Maggie, "I'm very thankful to you for thinking of me, and being so good to me and Tom. I don't think any one ever did such a kind thing for me before. I haven't many friends who care for me."
"Hev a dog, Miss!–they're better friends nor any Christian," said Bob, laying down his pack again, which he had taken up with the intention of hurrying away; for he felt considerable shyness in talking to a young lass like Maggie, though, as he usually said of himself, "his tongue overrun him" when he began to speak. "I can't give you Mumps, 'cause he'd break his heart to go away from me–eh, Mumps, what do you say, you riff-raff?" (Mumps declined to express himself more diffusely than by a single affirmative movement of his tail.) "But I'd get you a pup, Miss, an' welcome."
"No, thank you, Bob. We have a yard dog, and I mayn't keep a dog of my own."
"Eh, that's a pity; else there's a pup,–if you didn't mind about it not being thoroughbred; its mother acts in the Punch show,–an uncommon sensible bitch; she means more sense wi' her bark nor half the chaps can put into their talk from breakfast to sundown. There's one chap carries pots,–a poor, low trade as any on the road,–he says, 'Why Toby's nought but a mongrel; there's nought to look at in her.' But I says to him, 'Why, what are you yoursen but a mongrel? There wasn't much pickin' o' your feyther an' mother, to look at you.' Not but I like a bit o' breed myself, but I can't abide to see one cur grinnin' at another. I wish you good evenin', Miss," said Bob, abruptly taking up his pack again, under the consciousness that his tongue was acting in an undisciplined manner.
"Won't you come in the evening some time, and see my brother, Bob?" said Maggie.
"Yes, Miss, thank you–another time. You'll give my duty to him, if you please. Eh, he's a fine growed chap, Mr. Tom is; he took to growin' i' the legs, an' I didn't."
The pack was down again, now, the hook of the stick having somehow gone wrong.
"You don't call Mumps a cur, I suppose?" said Maggie, divining that any interest she showed in Mumps would be gratifying to his master.
"No, Miss, a fine way off that," said Bob, with pitying smile; "Mumps is as fine a cross as you'll see anywhere along the Floss, an' I'n been up it wi' the barge times enow. Why, the gentry stops to look at him; but you won't catch Mumps a-looking at the gentry much,–he minds his own business, he does."
The expression of Mump's face, which seemed to be tolerating the superfluous existence of objects in general, was strongly confirmatory of this high praise.
"He looks dreadfully surly," said Maggie. "Would he let me pat him?"
"Ay, that would he, and thank you. He knows his company, Mumps does. He isn't a dog as 'ull be caught wi' gingerbread; he'd smell a thief a good deal stronger nor the gingerbread, he would. Lors, I talk to him by th' hour together, when I'm walking i' lone places, and if I'n done a bit o' mischief, I allays tell him. I'n got no secrets but what Mumps knows 'em. He knows about my big thumb, he does."
"Your big thumb–what's that, Bob?" said Maggie.
"That's what it is, Miss," said Bob, quickly, exhibiting a singularly broad specimen of that difference between the man and the monkey. "It tells i' measuring out the flannel, you see. I carry flannel, 'cause it's light for my pack, an' it's dear stuff, you see, so a big thumb tells. I clap my thumb at the end o' the yard and cut o' the hither side of it, and the old women aren't up to't."
"But Bob," said Maggie, looking serious, "that's cheating; I don't like to hear you say that."
"Don't you, Miss?" said Bob regretfully. "Then I'm sorry I said it. But I'm so used to talking to Mumps, an' he doesn't mind a bit o' cheating, when it's them skinflint women, as haggle an' haggle, an' 'ud like to get their flannel for nothing, an' 'ud niver ask theirselves how I got my dinner out on't. I niver cheat anybody as doesn't want to cheat me, Miss,–lors, I'm a honest chap, I am; only I must hev a bit o' sport, an' now I don't go wi' th' ferrets, I'n got no varmint to come over but them haggling women. I wish you good evening, Miss."
"Good-by, Bob. Thank you very much for bringing me the books. And come again to see Tom."
"Yes, Miss," said Bob, moving on a few steps; then turning half round he said, "I'll leave off that trick wi' my big thumb, if you don't think well on me for it, Miss; but it 'ud be a pity, it would. I couldn't find another trick so good,–an' what 'ud be the use o' havin' a big thumb? It might as well ha' been narrow."
Maggie, thus exalted into Bob's exalting Madonna, laughed in spite of herself; at which her worshipper's blue eyes twinkled too, and under these favoring auspices he touched his cap and walked away.
The days of chivalry are not gone, notwithstanding Burke's grand dirge over them; they live still in that far-off worship paid by many a youth and man to the woman of whom he never dreams that he shall touch so much as her little finger or the hem of her robe. Bob, with the pack on his back, had as respectful an adoration for this dark-eyed maiden as if he had been a knight in armor calling aloud on her name as he pricked on to the fight.

Do you think your vote makes a difference?

2011-04-13T00:43:00.001-07:00

That was the question they asked me.
And wouldn't you know it, I had a position all picked out for me to defend. I had to go on air and tell people that their vote didn't make a difference.

Now ordinarily, I would shoot myself before I did something like that.

But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea
Mathew 18:6

Yes, I've been brought up a Christian; and my mother, bless her, made sure I knew the Bible.

Now, I believe I have a gift. It is the ability to convince people, quite well, of a stance that I currently hold. I once wrote that I could come up with arguments both supporting and refuting the existence of God, and both of them would be good arguments. I could, and can: But the question is- do I want to?

Quite frankly, no. If there's one thing I despise- it is destroying someone else's faith. You see faith, and the hope that it entails, is one of the most precious gifts that a person has. And if you shake that...
then good job, my son, you've just killed a soul. See you in Hell.

And so, I thought I'd take some time out and write this note; more to ease my conscience than anything else.

So, does your vote make a difference?
In a word, no. It does not. Before you pin me down as a cynical old loon ("Armchair Critic", I believe the word was) take a minute and think about it. If you, successfully, go and cast your vote, which in itself is a big achievement, do you think you're going to bring about a difference? You, sitting there in your air-conditioned apartment, comfortable, fed and watered. You. Not the public, not the "People"; but you.

Yes? What difference, pray tell.

The common understanding of the word "difference" is a change in outcome. In this context- if a person is to win on account of your vote, he should win on account of it. Then, apparently, tomorrow will be a brighter day filled with sunshine and daisies.

Quite.

Let me tell you something, friend. for every vote that you cast from your velvet-covered hand, there are ten other louts who will vote any which way they please for a packet of Biryani. My maid tells me that she took five hundred rupees to vote for a particular person. So, quite a lot more than a packet of Biryani then.

And yet, we still vote. What is the difference?

The difference Mister Cynic, is not out there, it's in here.

The only difference worth making, is the difference to yourself. If you change the world and you have no feeling of satisfaction, then that is no difference at all. If you give a million people television kits (and Air Conditioners and Refridgerators if modern trend is anything to go by) and you do not feel a sense of having made a difference, then what is the point?

The bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, the bear went over the mountain, to see what he could see.
And all that he could see, and all that he could see, and all that he could see,
Was the other side of the mountain, was the other side of the mountain,
The other side of the mountain, was all that he could see.

You know what?

In the bear's heart, he feels that he has made a difference;

and that, is the only thing that matters.

Why should I vote?

Because I can.

Because if i do not, someone else will vote for me. And no one, No one, does anything in My name without My express authorisation.

Yes, I have God-like delusions sometimes. Sue me.

Will it make a difference?

Yes, it will.

To whom?

To the only person who matters,

Me.

Addendum:
So why did I do it? The same reason I refused when my mother told me not to read Dan Brown.

If your faith is so pathetic that you let it be shaken at the first sound of contradiction, then you do not deserve to have faith at all.

A trial by fire, is the only trial worth having.

Dream on

2011-04-12T09:01:00.000-07:00

I spoke to K first, for no other reason than he is most used to my mad schemes.

Poi saavu da.

That’s what he said, when I told him of my plan.

Here’s a translation of the rest;

I’ve my practice, I’m established; I’ve worked hard for this da and now you come in here (Just like you always do) and lay your idea on the table. No chance. Pick another guy. There are plenty of others in the city.

The rest ran on the same vein for a while.

But one thing I know about K, is that, like me, he likes a show.

Here’s my plan, I said. I want to start…..
And I want to do a series of them across the country. We will change the way this country sees entertainment. We’ll have them in every city. Every city will have one. They will be places where people can go to forget….and perhaps remember.

Money is no object. We will make a lot of money. I have a little money with which to start off with. And believe me, we will make a lot more. But I need you. You’re the only one who’s worked with me before. Heck, you’re the reason that the union ran for a year. Remember that? You know I need you.

We spoke for over three hours.

In the end, he agreed.

I knew he would in the end.

I think he knew it as well.
….
With K convinced, I knew I had done it. There was no possible way it could not work after that.

I spoke to the Snowman next. He’d had some experience of processes. I needed him to ensure that my organization ran smoother than a kid’s bottom. That’s what I told him.

Actually, it wasn’t strictly the truth. I needed the guy because he worked as hard as anyone I knew: harder, even. He was reliable, straight-forward; and he helped me see the lighter side of life.

I could also see a possible future venture for him to take up. I knew what he really wanted to do. It wasn’t that hard to figure.

I’m a genius, sometimes.

Oh alright, he told me. There, happy?

Biryani and beer, my friend. Biryani and beer.
……
What did I do after that?

I believe in fate. I seriously do. I believe, in the end, that I cannot lose. I Believe that God, or whatever it is you’d like to call him, brings people into our lives for a reason. And that everything, everything, fits together.

We started off on 2nd April 2016. There wasn’t any looking back after that.

I pulled in the Walrus for PR.

Go jump, son; he said. You are not doing this to me again. I did it in college, but I was younger then. I will not be a victim of your megalomaniacal tendencies, again, You can go rule the world, I’m happy designing good, clean ad material.
Remember Vox Populi, I said.

Typical.

See that’s precisely what I’m talking about. If I work for you, it will be the same thing all over again. You wanted a lion then, and you’ll want your face now.
Fine, Alright then.
Fine? You’re letting it go? Just like that. You’re losing your touch, son.

Look, I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.
Sigh, take back what I just said.

I’ll invest in your company. I’ll put in this much of money, you run your company, no problem- just do my designing free.
The raised, skeptical eyebrows;
Exactly how much are we talking about here?
I told him.

I think Ben phrased it best, when he said later- Macha, Pradeep just wants to stand in front of a burning hoop and make lions jump at him, while he effortlessly swats them aside with his huge arms.

Right.

….

It was inevitable that I’d have MJ somewhere in there. One of the most promising kids I’ve seen. Smart and beautiful- What’s even worse, was that she knew it. And she knew how to use it too. Bugger her.

She’d just started off her company by then. Of course, she didn’t have the advantage of being born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Or maybe she did-xept that mine was bigger. I’m talking ‘bout the spoon of course.

She was however, making good progress. Fine, I’ll admit I was following.

I offered her the same thing I’d offered the Walrus. She, of course, refused. But she did design the line I’d asked for at a fair rate. Let’s be honest, for her work, I’d pay that much.

Eventually, when I came back to her a second time with my offer that she couldn’t refuse, she didn’t. But then, that was a lot later.

MJ will make you work for things, remember that.

….
I told Dharma, when I was in college, that I wanted to start a school for the blind. Naïve me, then had this idea that I’d start a school, that I’d spend a good portion of my earnings on it. I wanted to even the scales, you see.
And when I met Numa,again- after a pretty long time, that’s what I proposed to her. How did I meet her again?
I have this vision of you, and it’s always in rags, surrounded by little kids…and you’re helping them, and you’re happy….and they’re happy. You can try corporate for a while, but I bet that that’s where you’ll end up.
I know that child; it’s just that I feel that I’d like to see this world first. But don’t you worry, when I finally turn social, I’ll come to you, and you better help me.
You know I will, Numa. I always will.
And like she said, she came. And like I said, I helped.
Much later when I put the idea to her, she accepted. And she got a group of brilliant people together to do it as well. She didn’t actively head the school, mind. I didn’t expect her to. Eventually, she did though.
That is something I am incredibly proud of.
…….
And the rest is history really.
Oh wait, there was the kid. The kid was special. The thing that I’ll say about her, was that she was incredibly talented at seeing things in me, that I could not; in all honesty, I think those qualities don’t even exist in me. But still, she saw them.
And, whatever quality I may lack, the one quality I cherish, is that I don’t let down the people who have faith in me.
She was a business partner, and what she made possible was one of the biggest and earliest collaborations I had. It was incredible, what that little thing could achieve. As always I am grateful.
I am grateful to each one of them, actually; Individually and in infinite measure.
…..
Addendum 1:
Naturally, the guard saluted when the car passed. It was an impressive church, always had been; always will be. I was made more impressive by the hill that it rested on; perhaps God’s own way of raising His own.
He’d restored the church; and he’d done a lot more. The parish priest had received a proposal for renovation of the site. He’d refused at first. The church rejected the proposal as crass commercialism. A few years later, the arch-bishop changed; and the place had fallen to ruin by then….
The entire area stood transformed now. Music floated in the air. Families flocked there every Sunday; and while the elderly spent the day in prayer; the children played on the beautifully landscaped gardens. As I said, music floated in the air.
When I looked down on his family spread out on the lawn below, I couldn’t help but remember the words he’d said to me when we first met;
And departing leave behind us, Father,
Footprints in the sands of time. …..

Addendum 2:

You wouldn’t have liked it cos you’re so uptight.
Why are you always so…..reserved?
A self-imposed prison of control, eh ?
I had a closed fist in front of me, and suddenly, one day, I felt a small hand upon mine. Slowly, and to my surprise for I was quite strong, I felt little fingers work at my own, trying to open them.
It took a while; but, in the end, there were two hands- palms facing each other-
One large, and one….

Really tiny.

This last part was for you, you know that.

The Lady That Owns Tomorrow.

2011-02-10T08:49:00.000-08:00

Who shalt stand ‘fore flame.
Who shalt play my game.

Sing me a lullaby.

Who shalt be my verse in song,
Who shalt right, my every wrong.

Of tone, bought -sweat,
Of silence, death,

In God, I trust.
I must

Of tune, in set,
Of indrawn breath,
In her, I trust.
I shall.

She shall laugh, in summer;
Behold, there is summer;
She laughs.

From the end –behold,
Beginning, There is truth;
She knows.

White, a colour- ceasing never,
Till doth from bone, soul sever.

A slice of heaven, revel together,
To bare my soul, now forever.

Take my hand,
Lead me on.
Shield me, I pray,

Take my hand,
Lead me on.
Shield me, I pray,

From night to morn.

I will wait, and live,
I will wait to live, what's mine to give
All i own, all I am,
All I will be.
All i can.

Lying in this empty hollow,
Lying, un-won,
Still lying in this empty hollow.

For the lady that owns tomorrow.

The Cottage on a hill

2011-01-20T08:17:00.000-08:00

It shows us what we want? Whatever we want?
Yes, and no. It shows us, nothing more nor less, than the deepest darkest most desperate desire of our hearts.

It was an empty room. And there was a mirror in that empty room. The mirror, of course was the Mirror of Erised. And as young Anna stood in front of the mirror, she saw…

She saw a man. He was tall, you could see that, though he sat in a chair by a fireside. He was reading a book. Anna could make out the title- it said” The Mill on the Floss”. There was a window by the man, and through it you could see lovely views- the most beautiful hill sides ever imagined; lush flowing, rolling greenery.

A dog barked in the distance.

Anna could see the warmth emanating from the man; he had such a lovely smile. And such a lovely, deep booming laugh. He laughed as she watched him; probably at something he had read. His smile was perfect, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. His hair was beautiful as well You could see he took pride in his appearance; his clothes matched perfectly-highlighting a perfect frame.

All in all, a perfect man.

She could almost imagine a life with him; he’d take her to dinner-he’d open every door for her; he’d be courteous, warm and dignified. He’d take her to the movies; he’d take her all over the world. He would be smart, intelligent, funny. He’d have a job (She didn’t really care too much what he did) that would earn him a lot of money, but wouldn’t keep him employed for too long. He’d be oh-so-talented(she was sure). He would play several instruments, he would sing a beautiful mellow-yet-strong bass, he would write her beautiful poetry and be ever-so-romantic and gentle. He’d never leave her, nor ever let her down. He would never harm her; nor ever let her be harmed. He would lay down his life for her.

She could see that he lived in a beautiful castle.

He was the man she would marry.
…
Of course, she never married him.
…
When we were young; we held so many beautiful dreams. We believed that they would happen too. And often enough, the world “teaches” us “better”; the world “teaches” us to temper our dreams with reality.
….

I wonder….is this a good thing?

I don’t intend to let go of my dreams.

Omni ope atque opera.

Eleanor Rigby

2011-01-20T08:12:00.000-08:00

Algorithm:
What do you want?
….
(Store in A)
Why do you want it?
….
(Store in B)
What are the consequences?
…
(Store in C)
Is B>C
Then A.
Else
Screw this whole exercise. You’re wasting your time with A.

All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong?
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
We are all afraid aren’t we? Afraid of society; afraid of rejection.
Who among you has the courage to bare your heart? To go up to the person you love and say so? I do. I did too; and it locked me in a happy, self-imposed prison.(Author’s note: Not really. But its funny and at times convenient to say that it did. In reality- it sets you free; really) Now, you try.
But…no. There’s convention; there’s ego (there’s always ego);; there’s fear, there’s insecurity.
I’ve advice my friend- take all that and stuff it where the sun don’t shine.
Life’s way too short to sit around waiting for something. Take a shot. Yes, you may fail; yes you may bleed for a while; but you’ll recover. It’s not about how many times you get hit and fall but how many times you get back up. I think Rocky said that.
If you want something- go out and get it. If you want someone- go out and get them. Show me the girl who goes after what she wants and I will show you my kind of woman. Do not live in the hell of a friendship-in-the-hope-that-someday….
Someday won’t come.
Take my word for it.
Someday won’t come.
But what if I’m not good enough?

Never let anyone convince you that you are not good enough for the person you love. I saw that in a rather silly movie once.

What if she says no? Well good then, yeah? Least you’ve got that out of the way. Tell me, do you particularly enjoy doing drugs? ‘Cos that’s what you’re doing now. You’re living in a happy haze; because you are too afraid to live, to love. Here’s what’s going to happen to you:

She’d always been there for him. In all his pictures, you could see her. Standing in the corner; standing along with his friends; smiling her slightly-sad, fake little smile.
Five years later:
She’s still there in all the pictures; only she’s marginally closer now; marginally.
Another five years later:
She’s pretty close now; only two people between him and her in the picture.
Five years later:
It’s his wedding picture; she’s there.

Only, she isn’t the wife.
….
You want to know her name eh?
I don’t really remember.
….
I think it was Eleanor Rigby.

Protected

2011-01-18T05:53:00.000-08:00

I loved what he did, although I never told him that.

We'd been out for a year when it happened. It was a normal enough monday- just like any other day. I reached college around eight. As i made my way to the room, I could already see him there in my mind. He was always there at 7:50 in the morning;always. He'd be at his table, texting on his phone or looking at something on his laptop.
And sure enough, there he was.

Hey beautiful.
Hey you.

He was looking at something on his laptop. He didn't look up as I entered..

Lots of work?

His brow crinkled.

Isn't there always.
It wasn't phrased as a question.
The day went on pretty much as usual. That is, until break.

To be perfectly fair- I think he started it. He'd been having a bad day since morning and it looked to be getting a lot worse.

The argument started as most arguments seem to start between men - over who had the bigger penis. He wanted X to do some work for him, and X had refused; citing (in his opinion) a rather silly excuse. The usual verbal sparring began from there.Various expletives were used and various insults were thrown. Parentages were questioned.

"All so that you can spend your blasted time canoodling with that annoying and flat-out ugly whore of yours!".

Everything went still. I turned cold. X had forgotten that I was in the room as well.

What did you say.

You heard well enough.

The world stopped for a microsecond; poised on the edge of a cliff.

He fell on X. And when I say fell, I mean in the most basest, and primal sort of way. He wasn't a big boy; in truth X was a lot bigger. But I don't think X had fully appreciated the ferocity of the attack that his words would bring down.
He rained blow after ablow on the poor fellow, By the time X had mustered enough of his senses to mount any sort of defence, he was already on the floor with a bleeding lip, a black eye...
and a broken arm.
It took three of the others to pull him off X.
But by then the damage was done.
And that was that.
......
Of course, he spent several days in detention. I daresay how he wangled his way out of that would make for an interesting story. (He usually does, you know. Wangle his way out, I mean).
And of course there was a huge hoo-haa about it all.

Did i like him the more for it?
I still can't quite make up my mind.

Yes, every woman wants to feel protected, but there was a ferocity there that was almost scary.....
and there was the broken arm.

Kids these days

2011-01-17T06:15:00.001-08:00

There are very few people in the world that I'm actually fond of. Most people I tolerate; and most other people don't register on my radar.

Now, my ten- year old cousin is one on the list of people I'm fond of. And it so happened that i called her yesterday- it being her birthday.

Here's a rough excerpt of our conversation:

Hey Nina.

Hey.

Happy Birthday.

Thank you.

So...um...what did you do today?

Nothing much.

Nothing Much? Didn't you cut a cake?

Yeah. i did.

And...? Tell me about it! (People who know me must be staring in wonder right about now. I rarely ask questions. i missed the "Socials" class while growing up).

It was a chocolate cake.

That's the only kind worth having isn't it? So .... what shape was it? Barbie Shaped? Robot Shaped?

Nope.

It was square-shaped.

Hey- why didn't you have a cake in a shape? i love cakes in shapes!

Pause.

i'm ten years old.

Right.

Um. Ok

Kids these days.

Oh and by the way, I grew out of barbies a long while ago.

Right.

Shakin Hands

2011-01-10T08:18:00.001-08:00

I was already a few drinks down when I saw her. She looked least thirty; I learnt later that she was twenty four
.
Beautiful she was, in that dangerous sort of way that a black widow is beautiful. A perfect body, a child-like face, pouty lips and straight black hair- a fallen, dark angel I’d see her in Church on Sundays..

Anise, her name. At least that's how everyone knew her. Everyone knew Anise.
She'd appeared in town a year back, and had forced herself into the hearts and minds of the townsmen. In some cases, she'd forced her way in further.

Amanda Stewart, born 25th December 1984 was the only child of Bob and Martha Stewart. She studied at Lakefield High, from where she was sent out over rumoured sexual affairs with several of the members of the school's staff. Public humiliation followed. Her parents engaged a private tutor, Jonathan Wendel (See The Lakefield Backroom Scandal). When the tutorship ended Amanda left home and her parents heard no more of her.

She had her eyes on the prize as the girl next door
You grow up quick when you grow up poor
It's the only way to LA that she knows
The Hollywood pose: teeth, tits, and drawers

It didn't take her long to leave the boulevard
So many Five Star friends with black credit cards
She'd try anything once
Cause anything goes
It never comes easy when you're digging for gold

She caught me looking at her, pushed off the anonymous A-lister pawing at her clothes, and walked over.

Hey handsome.

Hello....Anise, isn't it?

She didn't bother answering. She took the cigarette from my hand.
Smoking ain't good for you honey. She inhaled deeply.

She took the double I held next.

What's your story cupcake?

Me? I'm a reporter. I write for the Herald.

You've a name cupcake?

Mike. My name's Mike.

Mike.

Mike Shandle?

I nodded.

I like your work. I've been following it.

Thank you. I was surprised. My pieces in the Herald were mostly excerpts from the papers I delivered at the University.

I've always wanted to know you...a bit better.

The music was really loud now, and the alcohol was starting to get to my brain.

She had her hand on my leg.

I'm married, I muttered; rather feebly.

Giggle.

I know.

She took hold of my hand and led me into the darkness.

Well she ain't no Cinderella
When she's getting undressed
'Cause she rocks it like the naughty wicked witch of the west
Far too pretty to be giving it cheap
That's why she's making six figures working three days a week
Yeah she'd even break a promise in the promise-land
She didn't make it this far by just shaking hands
She’d take your money make it twice as hot as anyone can
She didn't make it this far by just shaking hands

You're quite fascinating , I told her later. A fascinating story.

Uh huh? You know my story honey ?Think you know me? She asked me, rolling up a smoke.

I told her what I knew.

You don't know squat munchkin.

I doubt she’d even let the devil buy her little black book
City Hall would probably fall off if anyone got a look
Every a-list player is a favorite friend
Since they all taste the same in the back of the benz.

Congressman Phillman?! You must be kidding me.
She showed me the red checked skirt.

A congressman would call her every once in a while
Got the school girl skirt on the top of the pile
She’d done everyone once
And everyone knows
You got to get a little dirty when you’re digging for gold

Do you regret any of it?
Nope.
I’ve my ways and I want what the next man wants.
Who are you to judge, cupcake?
…….

Well someone spilled the beans and now her name’s in the press
Tough to keep it all a secret when you’re one of the best

I didn't break the story. I was fond of Anise by then. We spoke rarely but I remember each time vividly. She'd call when she had a problem with something I'd written.
The case came up up on the 17th. I walked into the court room with more than my fair share of trepidation.

….

But, of course..

The judge is going easy because he paid for her chest
Yeah he loves his naughty wicked witch of the west

So do we all Judge Spalling. So do we all.

.....

She shook my hand; I remember that clearly.

Sketches

2010-11-04T08:32:00.000-07:00

"Cos I'm broken, and I want to hold you high and steal your pain".

She looked across the table at the boy. No, she corrected herself, not the boy, the man.He looked a lot older than when they had last met. His face was...different..more lined..more wary- if that were even possible.

The thing about him, she thought to herself, is that he is, was, always so ...guarded; like he was forever holding something back. His face, his movements, indeed his very being seemed to speak of something unexpressed. (musingly) A wild animal in a self imposed cage.

"I'd gone for a swim the other day;", he was saying, " So beautiful- you have no idea. I was on my own in an empty pool on the eigth floor- open to the elements on one side. The sun was just setting....so beautiful."

" I did around fifty laps and then rested for a bit(Fifty? She wondered- where is this guy's battery?). And then I went back in and did another fifty."

He was grinning happily now; like a kid. His smile was infectious. And for a moment-she saw the happy little boy. He who loved his own company and yet seemed to give it away at every opportunity...

Puzzling creature.

"You strike me as a man who loves solitude", she ventured."And yet, everything have done seems to contradict this image. You go out, you seem to know everyone, everyone knows you, you interact with people, you get things done, you manipulate people(Frown). And yet you claim to be a loner. Why? Why do you do it?"

Why indeed?

he seemed nonplussed for a second. A look of uncertainity flashed across his face.

"I don't know".

Ha. Got you there.

"There's a first", she remarked drily.

Another thing about him- he always, always seemed to know. He always seemed to have an ace up his sleeve- and he always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else.

"How do you do it? How do you always seem to be ahead? How do you always have an idea of exactly where you're headed?Of what the ultimate "purpose" is?"

" I don't",rather plaintively," Most of the time I'm just winging it. I'm just a lot faster than everybody else at winging."

irritating. That can't be it.

Smug, some people would call him.

"Do you come across as a snob?"

"Yeah, i do, probably(Shrugs) Don't really care one way or another. Thos who need explanations from you , don't deserve them."

Aha, a failing.

"What are your failings?"

"I'm insensitive- or so I've been told. I care about very few people.?

"Do you care? About being insensitive?"

"Nope".

Har har.

"Is there anyone who knows you?"

"Welcome to the club"

And with that the conversation meandered away, into calmer pastures.
I think he did it deliberately, I always do.

....

"Happy Birthday man. You are one of the few people I know with potential for true greatness; make sure you realise it."

Earler:

" I believe, and I say this with all honesty- that you are a killer. Not that you would kill me right now, but that if you so wanted it, you would engineer it(or as i suspect do it yourself) and it wouldn't matter to you one ...little...bit."

Later that night in bed:

" I'm a killer." Growl.

She laughed in his ear.

"Sure you are." Serious." You're not as bad as you think you are. Someday you're going to realise that , deep down you areally are a nice person."

A few days later:

"Stop it! You're scaring me."

Huh.

Told you I could convince anyone of anything I wanted to; told you I was evil.

Pause.

"You're not evil." But there was a small tinge of uncertainity.

Man, he was good.

...

" I'll change the world one day, you know that don't you?"

Sure you will, baby.

Hush now.

Pulls him downwards...

Sleep.

....

I'd probably give all the money away though.

The Man in Black

2010-09-17T04:07:00.000-07:00

I came across this story some eight years ago. It formed part of ny English text in school. I have never forgotten it; I doubt I ever will.
There are those who will hold that herein lies a rather accurate analogy of yours truly. I, of course, strongly and most vehemently refute that claim.

Title: The Man In Black
Author: Oliver Goldsmith

Though fond of many acquaintances, I desire an intimacy only with a few. The man in black whom I have often mentioned is one whose friendship I could wish to acquire, because he possesses my esteem. His manners, it is true, are tinctured with some strange inconsistencies; and he may be justly termed an humourist in a nation of humourists. Though he is generous even to profusion, he affects to be thought a prodigy of parsimony and prudence; though his conversation be replete with the most sordid and selfish maxims, his heart is dilated with the most unbounded love. I have known him profess himself a man-hater, while his cheek was glowing with compassion; and while his looks were softened into pity, I have heard him use the language of the most unbounded ill-nature. Some affect humanity and tenderness, others boast of having such dispositions from nature; but he is the only man I ever knew who seemed ashamed of his natural benevolence. He takes as much pains to hide his feelings, as any hypocrite would to conceal his indifference; but on every unguarded moment the mask drops off, and reveals him to the most superficial observer.

In one of our late excursions into the country, happening to discourse upon the provision that was made for the poor in England, he seemed amazed how any of his countrymen could be so foolishly weak as to relieve occasional objects of charity, when the laws had made such ample provision for their support. "In every parish house," says he, "the poor are supplied with food, clothes, fire, and a bed to lie on; they want no more, I desire no more myself; yet still they seem discontented. I am surprised at the inactivity of our magistrates, in not taking up such vagrants, who are only a weight upon the industrious; I am surprised that the people are found to relieve them, when they must be at the same time sensible that it, in some measure, encourages idleness, extravagance, and imposture. Were I to advise any man for whom I had the least regard, I would caution him by all means not to be imposed upon by their false pretences: let me assure you, sir, they are impostors, every one of them, and rather merit a prison than relief."

He was proceeding in this strain earnestly, to dissuade me from an imprudence of which I am seldom guilty, when an old man, who still had about him the remnants of tattered finery, implored our compassion. He assured us, that he was no common beggar, but forced into the shameful profession, to support a dying wife and five hungry children. Being prepossessed against such falsehoods, his story had not the least influence upon me; but it was quite otherwise with the man in black; I could see it visibly operate upon his countenance, and effectually interrupt his harangue. I could easily perceive, that his heart burned to relieve the five starving children, but he seemed ashamed to discover his weakness to me. While he thus hesitated between compassion and pride, I pretended to look another way, and he seized this opportunity of giving the poor petitioner a piece of silver, bidding him at the same time, in order that I should not hear, go work for his bread, and not tease passengers with such impertinent falsehoods for the future.

As he had fancied himself quite unperceived, he continued, as we proceeded, to rail against beggars with as much animosity as before; he threw in some episodes on his own amazing prudence and economy, with his profound skill in discovering impostors; he explained the manner in which he would deal with beggars were he a magistrate, hinted at enlarging some of the prisons for their reception, and told two stories of ladies that were robbed by beggarmen. He was beginning a third to the same purpose, when a sailor with a wooden leg once more crossed our walks, desiring our pity, and blessing our limbs. I was for going on without taking any notice, but my friend looking wistfully upon the poor petitioner, bid me stop, and he would show me with how much ease he could at any time detect an impostor.

He now, therefore, assumed a look of importance, and in an angry tone began to examine the sailor, demanding in what engagement he was thus disabled and rendered unfit for service. The sailor replied, in a tone as angrily as he, that he had been an officer on board a private ship of war, and that he had lost his leg abroad in defence of those who did nothing at home. At this reply, all my friend's importance vanished in a moment; he had not a single question more to ask; he now only studied what method he should take to relieve him unobserved. He had, however, no easy part to act, as he was obliged to preserve the appearance of ill-nature before me, and yet relieve himself by relieving the sailor. Casting, therefore, a furious look upon some bundles of chips which the fellow carried in a string at his back, my friend demanded how he sold his matches; but not waiting for a reply, desired, in a surly tone, to have a shilling's worth. The sailor seemed at first surprised at his demand, but soon recollected himself, and presenting his whole bundle, "Here, master," says he, "take all my cargo, and a blessing into the bargain."

It is impossible to describe, with what an air of triumph my friend marched off with his new purchase; he assured me, that he was firmly of opinion that those fellows must have stolen their goods, who could thus afford to sell them for half value. He informed me of several different uses to which those chips might be applied; he expatiated largely upon the savings that would result from lighting candles with a match instead of thrusting them into the fire. He averred, that he would as soon have parted with a tooth as his money to those vagabonds, unless for some valuable consideration. I cannot tell how long this panegyric upon frugality and matches might have continued, had not his attention been called off by another object more distressful than either of the former. A woman in rags, with one child in her arms and another on her back, was attempting to sing ballads, but with such a mournful voice, that it was difficult to determine whether she was singing or crying. A wretch who, in the deepest distress, still aimed at good humour, was an object my friend was by no means capable of withstanding; his vivacity and his discourse were instantly interrupted; upon this occasion his very dissimulation had forsaken him. Even in my presence he immediately applied his hands to his pockets, in order to relieve her; but guess his confusion when he found he had already given away all the money he carried about him to former objects. The misery painted in the woman's visage was not half so strongly expressed as the agony in his. He continued to search for some time, but to no purpose, till, at length recollecting himself, with a face of ineffable good-nature, as he had no money, he put into her hands his shilling's worth of matches.

Whose morals?

2010-07-01T10:15:00.000-07:00

A man lay dying on the road.

Two yards away from him stood a man pointing a gun at the doctor.

By the dying man's side a priest knelt and prayed.

...

The man died; the one holding the gun dropped it, and walked away.

The crowd stood, silent and parted.

...
"I was furious, of course. I'd received a call and had rushed out. I daresay I reached there in time too. The poor chap was still breathing, at any rate. Something could have been done!But, no! Like some self-appointed God, he held me away with his gun. 'He needs God', he told me. Bah! like God could have saved him. Fool! A life was lost today because one young trigger-happy ruffian had his own personal code of morals."

"He was a Hindu; that was the only thing that held me. I must admit to you sir, that for a while all I could do was stand there in shock, It all happened so quickly. There was a man walking, and then he was lying on the road and there was blood all over him. I began to pray.
The doctor appeared so fast! It was almost like He had sent him there. I crossed myself and thanked Him.
And then the young man was there. He pointed his gun at the doctor and, turning to me he said, "He needs God'. My feet moved of their own accord. I knelt by the poor dying soul and said the Last Prayers to the Lord. He died a moment after I said...

Amen".

"I've seen a lot of bodies, I have. they come in all shapes and sizes, all classes. He's a fair man, is Death...
I've always been interested in expressions, yes. There's a lot you can tell about a man by the expression he has on him when he dies.

Him?

Oh, he was smiling;

quite peacefully too,

when he died.
...

Could they have saved him?

They could have, maybe.

Maybe they did.

Judge, thyself.

The Two

2010-06-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

Author's Note: The usage of stereotypes helps a writer convey messages easier than without. This, however does not mean that the author subscribes to the stereotypes used.

There were two babies in a bottle.

The first was white. It looked like the baby that one would find in a photograph of a baby. Fair, with a small tuft of curly brown hair, chubby, Cute. But it was the expression on the baby's face that really drew your eye. It looked so angelic. It had a simple , happy smile on its face- like all the world was its own personal playground. You could almost imagine this baby growing up into the man - a big , courteous, successful man. The perfect man; or the idea of a perfect man.

The second was black. Not the blackness of mere colour but the blackness that you would associate with the purest of...evil. Blood-shot red and slitted eyes stared balefully out of a face that lacked all expression. When the baby smiled, pieces of food hung from its pointy bloodied little fangs.

Stillness.

The bottle contracted; once.

The white child opened its mouth, devoid of all teeth (Bless the little babe) and blew a bubble. Inside the bubble was joy, peace, hope, charity, chivalry, love...all expressed with the simple clarity of a child.
Goo, said the white child.

The black one opened its eyes. It raised its hand and ran its sharp, curved, black nails down the side of the bottle. Imagine the sound of nails on a blackboard; coming from inside of you.
Hate, the sound seemed to say, Murder, jealousy, prejudice, pleasure, lust....rape.

Mercifully, the sound stopped.

There was stillness again.

The bottle contracted.

There are rwo babies in a bottle.

....

There is one baby in a bottle.

....

We all have them - a good side and a bad side.

Prince Charming and the Beast; only, which is which, really?

"Sometimes, we fight; sometimes we win; but most of the time- we survive,
barely"

Bow Bow

2010-06-15T04:20:00.000-07:00

The Den was a quiet little pub off Treacle Mine Road. Its visitors were respectable middle class,middle-aged men stopped by to have a drink on their way elsewhere;
for the most part.

The pub itself was tidy, neat, orderly. Soft yellow light illuminated comfortable cushioned chairs arranged loosely at small tables across the room.
Everyone knew the barman. And more importantly the barman knew everyone. He was probably called Tom.
Bradley H. Higgins was a regular to The Den. Now, there was a man who had been born to drink quietly at a pub like that. He came in at two everyday, on his break from work; drank his drink, and left, He spoke, albeit courteously, to very few people. He paid his tab regularly.
In appearance, he was unremarkable. Short, slightly built, he had thick, black hair which was engaged in a rapid recession from his broad forehead.His form, imdeed his very being, seemed to exude the words, "Mild mannered".
This story is about what happened at The Den one evening; involving the afore described Mr. Higgins.
It was two on a friday in December,and Mr. Higgins had just entered the pub. He made his was up to the barman and ordered his drink. He sat himself neatly and quietly down on his stool.
His drink was ready in minutes; Tom knew his job and his customers.

"You Bastard!".

At first, the only reaction to the sound was of quite puzzlement. It sounded alien and foreign. Surely such and animal scream could not have emanated from any of the pub's quiet drinkers.
As one, they all turned to look at the doorway, in which stood framed....a thing. He looked like a man, certainly the basic elements were there- face,body,legs; but there was something...animal about him. His hair was wild and matted, his face was dark and scarred. He was frothing at the mouth. His convict's attire hung off him in shreds.

"You Bastard!".
And as he screamed it the second time, he raised his hand and pointed- pointed directly..... at Mr. Higgins.

"You lying, cheating, manipulating WEASEL!".

There were sounds of alarm as the man advanced into thepub. Tom reached under the table for his club. No one did anything, mind you. They were all staring, transfixed.

"You ruined it all, you TURD! We were like BROTHERS! I looked up to you, I envied you , I TRUSTED you!". He spat on the floor and drew a breath; his face, hitherto contorted in a mask of fury , took on a rather strange quality. Was it my imagination, or was there something very...human...and wounded in that visage?
"I was HAPPY, you sonofabitch. I was with her and I was HAPPY! But you....YOU FUCKED it all up. You with your WORDS and your PRETENDING and you PROMISES and your DREAMS!"

He seemed to be working himself up to something. Tom pulled out his club, several of the guests rose. Mr. Higgins had still not moved a muscle.

"This is so FUCKING funny!", the madman laughed, deranged. "You're the Bastard and yet these people think I'm crazy!HA HA! They think that I'm evil! Look at you! Sitting there....sitting there where I should be Sitting! Drinking your little drink...Ha ha....SIPPING your little drink; and no one...NO ONE really knows....ha ha..NO ONE really knows what a sick, twisted little..HA HA..ha ha...ha."The laughter died with alarming suddenness.

His eyes narrowed. "Why don't you SAY something? Why in the name of all that is holy are you SMILING you demented freak?!"

Mr. Higgins is smiling.

"You-! You BLOODY-! You...!"

Mr. Higgins finishes his drink.

"Now, LOOK here, you-!"

Mr. Higgins gets up.

"But..! But I-!"

Mr. Higgins walks over to the madman and stops.

The world stands still.

"Bow Bow", says Mr. Higgins.

And out he walks.

The End.

What else can you say to a dog? 'xcept "Bow Bow" and hope it pisses off onto some other unlucky sod the next time.

A Spiderman

2010-06-14T09:30:00.000-07:00

By day, I am surrounded,
By night, alone.
"Dusty trophies, empty hallways."
Talking to myself,
On the phone.

"Who am I ?
I am a Spiderman."

Alone in a crowd,
A twisted, seething mass,
"Mr. De ville, Remember me?"
Is this but,
A well played out
Farce?

Floundering,wary,
out of place;
"Ha Ha."
Should I laugh or should I cry?
Should I run or stand and face?

LIstless, fascinating,
bored to death;
"La Di Da, La di darling."
Music, my love,
A stranger well meth.

Waiting for
the door to open,
"Alcohol, Alcohol, alcohol."
Cocaine, best friend-
a mind broken.

Hail! the new day,
She dawns.
"F%^k this, hangover."
Just like the last one,
She fawns.

Yeah, yeah;
coming.

Unconditional

2010-06-08T09:33:00.000-07:00

Author's Note: I believe in God, despite it all; such is faith.

I, ___ take you, ___ for my wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death do us part.

The question is-
If I go crazy then would you still call me Superman?
Kryptonite.

I'd like to take a look at this abstract called "Unconditional Love".
Who among you will step forward to love this man unconditionally?

What if ...he becomes poor?
What if he loses his mind?
What if he becomes ill?
What if he is maimed in an accident?
What if he lies?
What if he commits murder?
What if he commits....adultery?

I can't see in one eye.. What if, someday, I lose vision in both?
"Even if you were blind, it would not matter, I will still hold your hand and walk you home"-My Art of living.

Should you find someone better, don't stop to think. Leave me and begone with you. I shall not hate you. I shall live in acceptance- in the line "As long as she is happy..."

Show me the person who shalt profess unconditional love and I will show you their Condition.

Is a mother's love unconditional? I have no answer to this one. In all honesty, probably it isn't.
There are certain things that I cannot allow myself to believe.

Note that I have always been far more interested in the angels on Earth than in Heaven.

There was a son who went home from school one day. Mum, he said, I'm sorry.I seem to have failed in my Maths exam.

There was a flicker in the mother's eyes.

That's alright Son.I'm sure you'll do it the next time, she said.

And she hugged him.

All was well.

However there is a part of me that stops at that point....the flicker.

Was that merely being human?

So, humans cannot love unconditionally, yes?

And so they brought about the concept of a higher being who could love unconditionally.

Why?

Because it felt better.

Is God's love unconditional, Father Jacob? Tell me then, why do we have confessions? Why is there Sin/Hamartia? Why is there a Hell?

So that you can be put through the whole rigmarole and at the end of it all He woll still love you?

Everyone deserves to have someone. For those that don't- there is God.

The floor is now open.

Nora

2010-06-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

Never have her:

This one's for Nora

Kayla Silverfox: Do you know why the moon is so lonely, Logan?
Logan: Why?
Kayla Silverfox: Because she used to have a lover.
Logan: You tell this to the kids?
Kayla Silverfox: No.
[Logan laughs]
Kayla Silverfox: His name was Kuekuatsu and they lived in the spirit world together.
Logan: Oh, this is a true story.
Kayla Silverfox: Mmm. And every night, they would wander the skies together. But, one of the other spirits was jealous. The Trickster wanted the Moon for himself. So he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back. And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But...

he can never touch her again.

.....
Never have her: Part- 2:

Curse of the Wicked Witch:

I loathe Fate. I loathe her with all my heart, and with all my soul and with all my mind. Centuries have I stood here; the years have not been kind- what was once the handsome form of a Lord of men is now the wasted form of an old fool. Centuries, I said.
Death, that sly Bastard, has tried to creep up on me several times.

He has tried; and he has tired.

I am...immortal; an immortal in pain.

I am the Man Who Loved Her.

There she stands-Niyati.

She is just a hands breath away.

But if I stretch out my hand, and cross the line of Fate, she will die.

Shatter,

Disappear,

Begone forever.

Pity me, mortal.

.....

Blood on my hands:

What do I care if a thousand nameless people die in some corner of the world, as long as in the here and now, you are safe?

Heck, I may even have killed them myself;

so thay can't harm you.

.....

If I could:

God, no.

NO.

She's dying God, look at her she's dying.

LOOK AT HER.

An almost feral scream.

Do you know what it is like to be young and in love?

Do you, old man?

DO YOU?

The feral scream again.

My wife has cancer.

(Aside)

And how I wish I could reach in and pull it out.

(To Cancer)

Leave her.

Please.

I beg you. I'll do anything. I'll give you whatever you want, (Breakdown), ANYONE you want.

Take me, Take me instead. (Sob)

TAKE ME.

Ward number 353 at St. Ursulas was cold, so cold.

At midnight on the 27th of May 1969 there were only two people in the ward- Jonathan and Sarah. One was dying on the outside, the other....on the inside. She had cancer.

On the morning of 28th May,1969, the ward was still, so still There were only two in the ward- one was breathing softly and the other was breathing...not at all.

He was dead.

........
Nora:

Cryogenecist Dr. Victor Fries saved his dying wife, Nora by freezing her in a cryogenic chamber, till facilities to perform an organ transplant became available. The chance never came. The corporation pulled the funding on his project...

His face pressed against the glass.

On the other side, his wife lay suspended, an ethereal white mist surrounded her.

She looked peaceful,beautiful; like an angel in heaven.

He raised his hand, made as if to reach through the glass.

His mouth formed the word,

Nora.

When he stepped back, his skin tore.

......

Logan: Wow. Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed.

Because. I write.

2010-05-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

This is a blog about a blog.

Why do I write?

Because.
Because, I.S, I find it therapeutic. It’s my way of letting the world know. It’s my way of showing people my thoughts, who I am, of inspiring the next.

It was a packed room. They said, afterwards, that the speaker was inspired. That when he spoke, they felt as if it all made sense and it was all clear, and that they felt chastised. And they went out and cut the goddamn tree. But one boy stayed back. He went up to where the speaker stood, completely drained.(For you see, everytime he spoke, he gave something of himself.)

“What’s the point”, he asked, rather plaintively.
The point, son, is that....the point is...the point...
Hope can push a dead man on.

Maybe, just maybe, years from now, or tomorrow- they’ll think of me and what I said- and they’ll change.

I write about random stuff. (Courtesy: Nazia)

More, accurately I write based on specific real-life incidents, conversations, ideas. And people walk in right at the end of the movie and go “ Ooh, Random!”.

I write because I’m looking....for the others: Someone.

And from person to person they passed the paper. It had one word written on it” IGHIHIIIGG”. They could see the beauty of the word but did not understand. They passed it on.

I write whenever I’m inspired, I.S.

Blood and sweat. Blood and sweat. He flung the sword into the tree.
Pull it out.

Show me what you’ve got.

Impress me.

And I write however i feel like.

Because.

It’s my blog.

Blame on me

2010-03-28T00:56:00.000-07:00

In silence, he drank three goblets of the potion. Then, halfway through the fourth goblet, he staggered and fell forward against the basin. His eyes were still closed, his breathing heavy.

"Professor?" said the boy, his voice strained. "Can you hear me?"

He did not answer. His face was twitching as though he was deeply asleep, but dreaming a horrible dream. His grip on the goblet was slackening; the potion was about to spill from it. The boy reached forward and grasped the crystal cup, holding it steady.

"Professor can you hear me?" he repeated loudly, his voice echoing around the cavern.

The man panted and then spoke in a voice the boy did not recognize, for he had never heard him frightened like this.

"I don't want... Don't make me..."

The boy stared into the wizened face he knew so well, at the crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, and did not know what to do.
"... don't like... want to stop...
"I don't want...Don't make me..
No...I don't want to ...I don't want to....Let me go...
Make it stop, make it stop
No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't want to....
It's all my fault, all my fault.Please make it stop, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again..
..Don't hurt them, don't hurt them, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead..
Please, please, please, no...not that, not that, I'll do anything...
..No more, please, no more...
I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!

On his knees

KILL ME
.....
Oh we few, we merry few..band of brothers- look at us now.

Look me in the eye and tell me that what I did was wrong. Go ahead; tell me. I can’t pretend that I did not know that this would happen. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.
But, then again, neither can you.

Story time.

There was once a little boy, gentlemen. And this little boy, Oh, he was so smart. My, my, what a smart little fellow he was. I’d wager that you wouldn’t have found a smarter lad even if you’d looked mighty hard; why, even if you had looked a million miles, you wouldn’t have found smarter. No. No.

And like all smart people – this little fellow needed a channel for his smartness. So he found a little wee pipe. And he began to play it. What a lovely sound that was, gentlemen!
And as he began to play it, the people began to follow him. Not because he was forcing them to, but because they were in awe of the sheer beauty of his playing.
How the people flocked to him.
The little boy was overjoyed. Look at that! They liked his music. How his cheeks glowed!
With a little skip and a little hop and a little jump, he ran down the mountainside, playing his pipe.
And all the people, gentlemen? They followed him, of course.
They crossed plains and valleys, mountains and hills and great mighty rivers.
A few of the people had difficulty crossing some of the harder obstacles.
The boy would help them when he saw that they couldn’t.
And they ran, and they ran.
And as time wore on, some of the people became tired. They wanted to stop.
But the little boy knew that they had only a little while to run, and so he ran on, relentlessly..
And they ran, and they ran.
And finally it was over, not with a bang or a shout or a clap of mighty thunder or anything like that but with a poof of apology- the little fellow had run out of breath.

And now the people started to realise how tired they were. They saw their wounds and their scars. They became angry, disgruntled, vengeful and also little ashamed of themselves.

They blamed the little boy.
They threw stones at him. They broke his pipe. They called him names.
They chased him away.

The little boy stood there and took it all.
Not a single tear, not a drop.

Then, he turned and walked away.

Analysis time, children.

Who did the following?
Were they forced to?
Was the little boy different at the end from how he was at the beginning?
Was it right, what they did to him in the end?

At every god-damned moment in your life you have a choice-the choice to say yes or to say fuck off. So, why don’t you exercise it?

Why?

I'm tired of being called names.

Sorry, blame it on me.

I am the man who used you.
I am the man who hurt you.
I am the man who started it.
The spark that burnt the forest.
The gene that mutated the species.

Sorry, blame it on me.

Because it’s easier that way.

It is so much easier to blame someone else for t=all the unhappiness that you perceive in your life.

You had the choice to walk away.

Bullshit- responsibility.
Bullshit- you’d already given your word.
Bullshit- there was nobody else.

You had the choice.

You still have the choice- to take the best from your choice or bleed with it.

I’d like every person who reads this article to take a moment and think about what’s wrong with his or her life today. Do you feel unhappy? Used? Abused? Neglected?

It’s your fault

You are the architect of your own happiness.

Choose wisely, live happy..

Adios.

Angels

2010-03-26T08:48:00.000-07:00

And through it all she offers me protection
a lot of love and affection
whether I'm right or wrong
and down the waterfall
wherever it may take me
I know that life wont break me
when I come to call she wont forsake me
I'm loving angels instead.

Women are the angels we don't deserve.

You can be the worst sinner on the planet, a worthless fart kicked out of the dodgiest pub in thy city, a failure every step of the way; but, if at the end of it all, you've managed to get a woman to love you, then rejoice,
There is salvation in her eyes, even for the worst of us.

At the day's end, she won't forsake me.

Those eyes.

They call me onward and inward. Drawing out the very soul; like standing on the edge of a cliff and suddenly finding that you've run out of ground, like walking off a water fall, there's no breath left in these poor lungs of mine.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains.
Have you heard of the phrase "raison d'etre"?It's french. It means " Reason for being".

There's a reason for walking that extra mile, there's a reason for striving that little bit harder, there's a reason for a reason: her.

John 19: 26
When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son.

And she saw her only son, stripped,humiliated and nailed to a cross; a sword of sadness pierced her heart.

To what does one compare you, O daughter? That you bear him a child, clenching through all the pains of birth, that you raise his child, sacrificing everything for it, and then finally, as it walks away from your arms you stand and watch it, knowing full well that it will fall? The ultimate sacrifice.

In the quiet dimly lit hospital ward, a man slowly regains consciousness, he opens his eyes. He can see nothing. The heart rate monitor begins to beep faster, his breathing becomes frantic. Where was he? What had happened to him? There had been an accident- flames, a lot of heat.

Why the f*&K could he not see?

And then,
"Woah boy"

A gentle voice, a hand is placed lightly on his shoulder.

" You ain't going nowhere yet."

"Who's there?"

"Easy there big fellow. I'm Mary. You're in ward 16A at St. Ann's.You've had an accident. The plane you were test flying crashed."

" But how-? Who - ? When- ?"

" Shhhh, take it easy now. You're alright," a soothing hand placed on his arm." "You're alright.
Don't you worry big man, I've seen a lot worse in my time. I'm here now, nothing will happen to you , i promise. Now, breathe ...."

And despite himself, Wing Commander Briggs felt his fear leave him, a tear roll down his eye. It would be alright. He was in good hands.
Angels' hands.

Play with me

2010-03-26T08:17:00.000-07:00

The rooftop of the most expensive hotel in the world, a single spotlight illuminates the only table. There are two chairs; one is empty. There's a half played chess board on the table.

He sits easy, a man used to his company. Thin; a black suit hangs off a spare frame. He hasn't shaved, hasn't slept in days. He holds a flute of clear liquid in his right hand.

Alone, he gazes out into the starless black night.

There's soft music in the background.

.....

The music changes first. It stops, abruptly.

The light goes out next. The man does not move.

Shadows within shadows, a whisper in his ear, " Too dramatic, my darling. Still," musingly, " you always knew how to set a scene". A lithe form folds itself into the chair opposite. The man still does not move.

She raises a candle, unlit; he lights it.
It is placed on the table.
"Much better"

"Your turn", his first words.

They play for two hours forty three minutes and seven seconds, in silence.

"Check mate".

The light comes on, so does the music.
There is no sign of the woman.
He has a half-smile on his face.

The flute of clear liquid stands drained.

It is on the side opposite to the man.

The moon shines on, brightly.

Inaugural Address

2009-07-17T11:36:00.000-07:00

Pre-inaug Video

2009-07-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

Inaugural Address

2009-07-16T09:57:00.000-07:00

There is no greater call than the call to public service.

Today marks not the victory of one group but the celebration of the spirit of man. Today I Pradeep Rajadas VGP stand before you, grateful to Almighty God, my parents, my teachers, the Management and the students, proud of what we have achieved and hopeful for what we are about to. Today I stand before you with a promise-the promise of a lifetime.

The promise to change the world.

Can we change the world? Yes we can. My world is right here in front of me-my family, my friends, every person who has known me, my college. Each of us has his own world. Why should I change my world? Because it is mine and if I don’t do it no one will.

What do I mean by change? I mean every small act of help, of improvement that you do-you have changed the world. If you pick up a piece of paper and throw it in the dustbin, you have changed the world. If you have smiled or spoken one kind word to your friend you have changed the world. If you win a prize for the college you have changed the world. And it will never be the same after that. It is the little drops of change that make the mighty ocean.

Can we change the world? Yes we can. Let not the fear of failure keep us from pursuing our dreams.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what the Students Union of Loyola sets out to do this year. We intend to change the world -one small step at a time. Let people know that this year in Loyola the doors of the Union are open to all. Let people know that the Union of this college is not about us and them but of you and me. Let people know that thi union is not afraid to change the world. Every act, every event will be great, will be united and will be for you. Let the people know that the flame has been passed on to a new generation of loyolites.

The Students Union hopes to earn Ovations. We seek to Ignite the flame of excellence and we seek to help. We will strive so that every passing day sees us further than the one before.We are a band of brothers who exist ....to assist

I conclude with this-The Union this year will achieve what the past could not, it will exceed what the present expects and bring about what the future will never be able to again.

We are Union.

Perfect

2008-11-02T02:04:00.000-08:00

Artist: Simple Plan
Title: Perfect
Another parent problem, another long conversation, arguments, no arguments, held back tears.....Sigh. Cue song.
Hey Dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according To plan?
You know what the problem is? Its expectation. Its that bloody plan. The ideal of perfection that you hold in your head. My son should be like this, my daughter should be like this. This is what he should do. this is what he should study, these are the specifications for his frends. This is not a son ure looking at folks. This is myProduct 0.23 Alpha. It comes with the following specifications. It Doesnt? Well ill bloody make sure it does.

Do you think Im wasting My time doing things I Wanna do? But it hurts when you Disapprove all along
Always the disapproval. Dont allow your kids to spend time with their frends. And if you do allow them time-make sure you disapprove a lot. Cos disapproval is good for their souls. Do you know how much we yearn for your approval? Do you? i have this picture in my mind. This lil boy has built a castle in the sand. He's been working hard on it all day long. His dad comes in, the expectation on the kid's face is heart breaking. Does the dad notice? Does he approve? Oh no. His white shirt may get dirty. He gingerly picks up the kid. Ticks him off properly for wasting time. The kid should have bee studying- or otherwise productively employed. ( The definition of "productively employed" for a kid is one word -" studying" ) A single tear hits the sand as the kid is carried away. Im not angry anymore. Im just sad.
And now I try hard to make it I just want to make you proud I?m never gonna be good Enough for you I can't pretend that I'm alright
I want my parents to be proud of me.I want them to point to me and say " That 's my boy", wit pride. And when they dont, Im broken.
And you can't change me Cuz we lost it all Nothing lasts forever I'm sorry I can't be Perfect Now it's just too late And we can't go back I'm sorry I can't be Perfect
We once had so much. You thought i was growing up fine. I was the perfect child. Or was I? Were you just waiting for me to grow up and make real mistakes, differing from your perfect ideal so that you could show me what i was not? Im sorry. I really am. Who's perfect in this world mama? No one is. Why must you expect your son to be perfect. Im sorry.
I try not to think About the pain I feel inside Did you know you used to be My hero? All the days You spent with me Now seem so far away And it feels like you don't Care anymore
My childhood seems so far away. My parents smiled a lot more then. They were my heroes. The time they spent with me, the joy we shared. Who changed? Did i change? Did they change? What went wrong?
Nothings gonna change The things that you said Nothing's gonna make this Right again Please don't turn your back I can't believe it's hard Just to talk to you But you don?t understand
The child was trying to explain himself to his dad. Everytime he tried he was told not to argue, not to be disrespecful. Then he was asked to justify himself. They all got up and left, going their seperate ways. Everybody turns their backs on everyone else.

The song itself alternates brilliantly between a sad, reminiscing regretful tone to a tone of anger- akin to what we go thru with our parents. We 're sad, insecure and unhappy because we feel that the love has gone. We feel frustrated and angry when they dont understand us anymore. Sigh.
So many wars, so many problems, so many broken families could have been avoided if people had just talked to each other as equals.

The Wolf Run

2008-11-02T01:44:00.000-07:00

Day Nine:
The wolf met yet another runner-the lizard. The wolf was not too sure what to make of the Lizard. He seemed like a good creature and yet he was like a shell. the desire to run was not his own. The wolf decided that the lizard was a mere puppet. His interest lay in pleasure. all his allies were pleasure seekers. The only disadvantage that the wolf could see in the lizard running was that he had disabled three of the wolf's supporters- The jackal, The Hermit crab and tthe gibbon. These had decided that their allegiances lay divided between the wolf and the lizard and in their confusion - they opted for doing nothing. The wolf was disappointed- two of them had given him their express word. He was more than disappointed- he was angry. But he held his anger in check. There would be time. He still hoped that they would see the error of their ways. Fools.
Day Ten:
The wolf went about doing good. His fame spread. He did this not with the intention of gaining favours but with the vague idea that all animals are inherently good creatures. He believed in the maxim" Cubs are born with no prejudices". He hoped he was right. Maybe they would remember him when the time came. Maybe they would not. Who could tell.
Day Eleven:
The wolf became aware of a spy. The old sparks of vengeance-long dormant- ignited in his blood. One of his friends was a traitor. When the time came he would make him pay so dearly that the other animals would cover in terror. The Chameloen had been an ally,then had turned against the wolf. The wolf snarled. How naive did the son of cur think the wolf was? He still expected the wolf to believe that he was on his side. The wolf could do nothing but gnash his teeth in fury. His time would come.

The Wolf Run

2008-10-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

Its been three months.
Day Four:
He met the Deputy. The Deputy was the man who could bring about the wolf run. The wolf could scarcely believe the power that the Deputy wielded over the other animals. Legions seem to rest on his word. His followers trusted him implicily-without question. And the wolf saw him, and was pleased he had gained the Deputy. He was an invaluable ally-with him the wolf would make history.
Day Five:
The wolf met another runner- the black fox. He was a wild creature-wild and wily. It became apparent to the wolf that the fox was a fool, a fool with followers, but nevertheless a fool. The fox had a trusted ally- the monkey. The monkey appeared more intelligent than the fox. The wolf started to grow wary. He even thought of not running. He had his pack and his work. There was no reason for him to run. He wanted no glory, or riches. He spoke to both the Deputy and the Priest. They were not impressed. Victory is ours, they said. Why do you fear. One of the wolf's friends -the mongoose convinced the wolf. The fox is evil, he said. If he becomes king we as a forest will be led by an evil fool. You have the chance. You have the strength. I have faith in you. You will do it. The wolf squared his shoulders- he had a job to do, a race to win.
Day Six:
The fox had the tongue of a snake. He was a snake-fox. He was trying to poison the minds of the animals of the animals against tthe wolf. His fear of losing was becoming evident. In his desperation he was making rash and wild promises, tempting the animals with dreams of glory and riches. The Deputy and the Priest made short work of the fox-snake's efforts. The jackal, another of the wolf's trusted allies, began to come into his own. His work in aiding the wolf's cause began to show itself. The wolf was pleased.
Day Seven:
The Priest brought the Man. The wolf was wary. The man appeared tame, even respectful, but he exuded danger the same way a tiger exuded danger. He spoke casually of murder. The wolf was uneasy in his heart. The man spoke well, of that there was no doubt. But still something tugged at the wolf's heart. The man was making requests that left the wolf wondering if it was a race or a battle they were preparing for. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Day Eight:
The man was proving to be almost as invaluable as the Deputy. he seemed to know all the animals. And they all seemed eager to please his every request, almost afraid even. The wolf's uneasiness grew. But the man's actions did not betray him. Only his requests tugged at the back of the wolf's mind.

The Wolf Run

2008-07-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

Day one:
It began with an idea.The wolf wanted to run.It knew how to run.And the others knew that it could run, and run well.The wolf knew them all-all the others.And he knew that he was faster. But he was'nt sure.It wasnt enuff just to know how to run.You needed to learn how to cross the potholes.And you had to escape the hunters.You had to ensure that the others didnt cheat.There appeared a lot more to running than running.The wolf was in doubt.

Day two
The others began to approach him-in ones and in twos.They wanted him to run.
They said that they would support him.They were but mice-but they offered their swords.And the wolf was touched.He knew that in these mice lay the strength to fell great lions He began to grow in confidence.Maybe the idea wasnt so bad after all.He would think about it.In the mean time -he was hungry.

Day three
The day that decided him.It was the priest that did him.You run, he told the wolf, I will support you.I have a congrgation behind me.They may not be all good men.But i can bring them towards you.Leave those who wil not come through good will,the wolf told him,they do not matter to me.I will do my best, said the priest.
How should i run, he asked the inspirer. Run as i know only u can ,said he.Run honestly,run true.Set yourself apart from the others as the true runner.God will help you. The wolf was decided.He would run.There was no turning back now.You may fail,said another inspirer.Butit is better to fail honourably than to win dishonourably, he added.The wolf knew this.He was decided.He would run.There was no turning back.

Because they Love us

2008-06-20T20:12:00.000-07:00

This blog is about letting go.Its also about what people can justify with the phrase"Because I love you".This is a note to all parents-Learn to let go.You have brought up your child in the best possible way.You've done everything you can for him.You've given him everything he has evr needed or wanted -within reason of course.But there comes a time in every child's life when in the eyes of the parents he seems to turn on the hand that fed him.This is when u need to led go.How long do you think you can protect him?For ever?Can you stay with her till she walks into her grave.The young do not fear death.Let them live.Let them make mistakes.They need to learn who they are. I'm warning you there will come a time when your child will cut herself to see whether she can really bleed because You've molly cuddled her so much that she simply does not know. There will come a time when ure child will take a rik just to see what happens.Tie a man in a strait jacket long enuff and he will one day try to choke himself.In parenthood there comes a time when your child will run a sword thru ur heart.He will turn on you and say "Dont do this for me anymore.Enough Protection." He will tell you that he needs his space and that he needs to get away from you for a while. Instead of clinging on to him at this point like a drowning sailor take a deep breath look him in the eye and say "I trust you . Do what you feel necessary. Remember that we love you ad that our hopes and dreams res on your shoulders."You will not be let down.Now onto a related issue..
There is an amazin amount of things that parents seem to get away with using the phrase "because we love you.."It is implied.Every time my mother comes up to me and says something like "i'd like to accompany you to college" I find myself thinking "Alrite,she wants to accompany her son whom she loves dearly.She wants to be the proud mother she has always wanted to be.Is that so bad?It wil cost me some face with my frends .But what the heck."I pray that my son thinks out the same line of thought some day.But there are times,times when i really wish i could draw the line.When my father gives me lines like"Dont go to the movie because one my friends will see you there and therefore my reputation as a good father will decrease and also I have reason to believe that movie goers are spoilt brats.Besides all your brothers were spoilt by goin to the movies."I feel like throwing up my hands in sheer total frustration and banging my head on the wall.Dont You EVR trust me ?Dont give me that about it not being a question of trust.It IS about trust.Can't you put aside your fears for me?Just because HE got "Spoilt"when he went to the movies,doesn't mean i will as well.Youve drilled your "morals" untill i can recite them backwards.Then what are you afraid of?The bottom line is:You dont trust me.Atleast thats what i feel.You dont trust me.I trust you so much.I would lay my life down for one of your decisions.But I'd like some trust in return. Someday.

Disclaimer:This particular blog is not something I'm riting outt of my own personal experience.It's second hand.Peace

Home

2008-04-16T23:03:00.000-07:00

Home
I really can’t help it. My life is a song. Every time I look at the world, at some incident that touches me or makes me happy or sad-I hear a song playing in my head. It helps me understand-and it eases the pain. This next song is a beautiful number that tugs at me every time I hear it. Its called “Home” by Daughtry.
If I were to set a scene for this song-I would imagine myself driving back home after a concert. Its late at night, its been a long day and I’m thinking..
Home. I look outside into the night at the busy city, the world outside-and I feel comforted by the knowledge that for today at least it’s all over-that I’m going back to a place where I’m loved, where I’m wanted. No matter how bad the day has been, no matter how much I’ve messed up, I’m going back home now and its all going to be alright. I can see it already-My home, my house, my family. There are smiles-not plastic ones but real ones, and there are people who really care about me. There’s a mat at the door-it says, “Leave your problems at the door son, you’re home now” We spend our whole lives searching for things away from home to make ourselves feel better. The other man’s grass is always greener. But at the end of the day what we fail to realize, is that everything we truly need or want is at home. Home is where the love is.
The last few miles are always the worst aren’t they? Just when you’re almost home, when you can almost feel home ground under your feet, the world seems to be trying to slow you down. The traffic seems heavier than usual. Stupid people come up with stupid, trivial reasons why you shoudn’t go home right now. But when you manage to brush them all off and finally get home the prize is always worth the wait, trust me. And the best part of it is-home is always there-something that’s steady and unfailing. And something that gives you another chance, and another one after that, and another one. The world doesn’t give you extra chances-home does.

I’m an introvert. Frankly, I find myself out of place most of the time-except when I’m at home. That’s where I belong-that’s where I don’t stick out.
I ‘m nearing home now. I think about the life that I lead-the life I’ve chosen for myself-and I wonder-did I chose the right thing? Is this what I really want? Sometimes I’m sure. Sometimes I’m not. But ultimately, no matter what, you’ll find that there’s only so much of time away that you can stand. After that- the “places and the faces start getting old”. That’s when you know that its time to pack up shop and head home.
Ever chased a pretty rainbow? There are times when I’ve devoted so much time and effort chasing a dream. And when I finally get what I want-I find that its not really what I want. I get things I didn’t really bargain for. And when I reach this point-again, I know its time to head home.
What’s the difference between a home and a house? Answer-home is where the love is. A strange thing is always beautiful-exotic and tempting. We may chase it for a while. But in the end there’s nothing more beautiful than picking up that phone and saying, ”Yea mum, I’m home”
I'm going home,Back to the place where I belong,And where your love has always been enough for me.I'm not running from.No, I think you got me all wrong.I don't regret this life I chose for me.But these places and these faces are getting old.I said these places and these faces are getting old,So I'm going home.

My Immortal

2008-04-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

My Immortal

Artist: Evanescence

Album: Fallen

Wind Up records.

It’s amazing, isn’t it? How one piece of music-just a few words really-a few words and a few chords, and an idea-can change a life. Can speak to you-speak to you from the innermost reaches of your heart, speak to you .with the voice of your own heart. It just fits doesn’t it? Like a glove. The lyrics are about you. The song is singing your life. And all you want to say is, “Yes. This is how it was. This is how it should be. This is me. My life.” Each one of us has a special song. Some of us have several special songs. Songs that touched us,moved us, made us happy, made us sad. Well this article is about one such song. This article is a tribute to a song that spoke to me, and has spoken to millions of people the world over. This article is a tribute. A note here-I do not claim to understand perfectly what the song means. And I don’t need to really. This is what the song says to me. And that’s enough. The song is “My Immortal” by Evanescence.

‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. Sometimes, I wonder if Shakespeare had it right. There’s so much joy in loving. There’s so much pain. This song is about the pain.

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

We’re here again aren’t we? You’re here now.-at the end of a relationship. And honestly you don’t know where to go from here. Ever felt the feeling that it would probably be better if they just went? That things would be alright if they would just pack up and leave? And then, when they leave-the pain starts. Everything reminds you of them.-that shirt, that empty glass. If you lose a person you love, the world seems to conspire to remind you of them-in every way possible.

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

Time’s a healer they say. All wounds die with time. You know what I think? I think time is like Band-aid.-only, bad band -aid. Imagine band-aid on a septic wound. It will hide the wound. Sure. It will hide the wound just until something opens it up again. The smallest prick and we’re bleeding all over again. Because the wound inside-that doesn’t ever heal.

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

He looked at the flower, and though that look was for but one instant, the beauty in his heart he froze, long after he saw it no more. Now, take that one step further. The image that he froze in his heart-that image, devoid of the reality it represented, froze his heart.

Sanity is such a fragile thing. And we are such precocious, emotional people.-so easily disturbed. To the impartial observer we would make fine fools. We give our happiness and our sanity in the hands of another. And when that person goes away, or dies, well, a part of us dies, slowly.

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

The mind will not accept what the heart knows has happened. No matter how much we tell ourselves that they’ve gone-that it’s over and that it was for the best. It doesn’t ease the pain really. It only makes us feel alone. And then we start to think-probably we were alone all along.

When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have
All of me
Now these lines. Well they’re the most beautiful ones in the song, at least according to me. They’re sung three times. The first two times have a soft mourning lilt to them.

To love someone so much. Ever woken up in the middle of the night from a bad dream? Remember now. The sweat, the fear, and the sudden cry with which you awoke. And then the thought-the reassuring thought that there is someone who cares. There is someone who will stand by you .Tell you it’s alright. That it’s all good. There isn’t a reason to fear. I am here by your side.

The last time these lines are sung the song reaches its climax with the guitar and the drums crashing in and adding a whole new dimension to the lyrics-anger. The last line is prolonged and completely softened though.

You still have all of me. When you died, when you went away, you took a part of me with you. And me, my shattered and fragmented self will always love you. No matter what.

Compartmentalization

2008-03-14T06:02:00.000-07:00

We are jugglers,all of us.We are juggling people,we are juggling roles,we are juggling lives.And in this mad juggling game of life if we let even one piece dop...just one mistake...well... u know what happens...
I live in several worlds.Everyday of my life i traverse atleast five different worlds.Im not an alien.Nor am i an intergalactic travller.My life is hectic.Very hectic.A normal day in my life would involve me keeping a minimum of five different appointments with five completely different sets of people at five different places, each wanting something outta me.For the purpose of understanding think of each of these different sets of people as Worlds.My logic is -if u live one more than one,expect concessions from none.Make sense?Each of those worlds is a separate entity friend.Each of them expects your optimum attention(Note:I do not say full attention).U cannot go up to em and say"Cut me some slack here chum,i live on worlds B,C and D""If u cannot give each of those worlds ur Optimum attention,for God's sake dont enter them.Stay well away.Another thing-never ,never Never let the worlds mingle.Divide em strictly,precisely and syeadfastly.Never spend all ur time on World A thinking of ur responsibilities on World B.Im tellin u brother-the only thing ull end up doin is tearing ur sanity apart,piece by bloody piece.If u have learnt this-u have learnt balance.And believe me-Balance is the key.Remember"East is east and west is west.And never the twain shall meet."

Melodrama

2008-01-04T06:17:00.000-08:00

Ive bin reading a few blogs recently,and some how im left with the feeling that my blog is kinda-hmmmm-juvenile.I mean ive bin reading blogs by people who sound like that they die a thousand deaths a day,cry hysterically over every death and lament life in terms that wuda sent Shakespeare scurrying for the dictionary.I mean -what is it with teenage(ers) girls and melodrama?Everyone is a bludy drama queen.They see pain here.Loss there.Suffering there.Blah blah blah.Life is meaningless etc etc.And the terms they use to describe their lives.Sheesh.I mean-come on-I have a sufficiently large vocab and ive seen my fair share of shit(Heck im blind in one eye and have a power of Seven-bludy-teen)-but even i dont go around using words like "grandiose"and "verbose" and phrases like"The illusion that is the world is going to come crashing down on you in the next nanosecond".Which century dyu people live in?Hmmm here's a totally baseless and largely unsuccessful attempt to understand these Doom and gloom addicts.These women(genrally) ad men(occasionally)(Wink:-)Sure me for bein sexist -i dont care) are verbose drama queens.Theyre drama addicts.They try to make out that their lives are poignant tales narrated by a dictionary with the page open on Melodrama-in an attempt to make the proverbial mountain outta the molehill.Why do u see so much pain round you?laugh a bit.Why is love an illusion?jus cos u have a failed relationship doesnt mean the world is about to end is it?Why is God an illusion?Jus cos He didnt come runnin whenever you had your petty lil moments doesnt mean He doesnt exist does it?
And in answer to this what do i get"(Sigh)u will never understand us Tragic,Misunderstood, Romantic souls"(Rolls Eyes).Argh.Wake up and smell the coffee.Smile a bit. Cant hurt more than what ure doin now.

Potential

2007-12-23T08:28:00.001-08:00

It is my gift.It is my curse.i look around me and i see-sooo much potential.For a long time now ive bin conscious of the fact that i have this curse to see an immense -ability- in EVEry person i see.Sho me a rag and i will draw the shirt it can become.Better yet-Ill make the shirt for you.I may even help u start production.While this may seem like a wonderful thing on the outside.It has proved to be a terrible curse.Ive become a Cynical Bastard.Every time,EVERY TIME to have to see so much potential go to waste-bein ruined by INCOMPETENT bums is like tearing out a bit of my soul.I feel like screaming in rage and frustration.Dont u See?Why the hell cant you see?uU have the ability.U have the God given talent for Pete's sake.I would KILL for some of the talents i see in ppl around me.I would commit Blue murder if i cud have been given talent,knowledge,opportunity,assets like yours.Ive had to build every talent I have wit me now from scratch.Whereas you-you have so much.And yet.And YET.U do Nothing.Open your eyes man.Luk at what youve got.See yourself as i see you.And for the love of God dont waste it.Please.Have mercy.

Faith

2007-11-09T01:36:00.000-08:00

Ahh.Faith.Ye ole problemo.
See the thing about faith is this-never,NEVER try to rationalize it.Cos if you try to rationalize your faith-find "scientific"xplanations of your belief -Then that isnt faith at all.There are sooo many arguments for God and against god ,that ,quite frankly it can get damn annoyin sumtimes.Here's an interesting Pro- god argument that ive heard.It is also the most asinine argument i have ever had the misfortune to hear.
The idiot:See if ure an atheist and you deny the existance of God-then you obviously have some conception of what ure denying.(patronizing tone) i mean you cant deny "nothing"?Therefore QED -God exists.
Answer:You FRICKIN IDIOT!here's an extension of your argument.I dont belive in the Bogeyman either.therefor-since i cant deny "nothing"-the Bogeyman exists?get outta here.
The thing is this :i Can -singlehandedly-destroy every argument you can possibly put forward for the existence of God.I can say that ur need to believe in a "higher power" is merely a form of wishful thinking.You're not cool wit the fact that u jus appeared-that ure the product of randomness.You need to have a REASON.You need to believe that theres a person wit a plan-who's gonna make sure ur life turns out OK in the end.i could say you need to grow up .Wake up and smell the coffee brother.yeah.I COULD say that .But see -the thing is-what it ultimately boils down to is FAITH.I was talkin to a frend of mine recently.And I was feelin a trifle sore at religion in genral.Cos id had to attend a retreat the previous da.Anyway long story short-The pore chap wanted to talk to me about the existence of God.By the time i was thru wit him-and here i quote-id managed"to reduce his three percent of faith-down to 0.5 percent"( i wonder if at this point it would be wise to read from the Bible"If you have Faith as a grain of mustard seed ,you shall say to the mountain-Move.And it shall"I reckon 0.5 percent shud qualify as seed enough for anybody)Have faith my friend.Be clear on what you believe in.And HOLD ON to that clear belief.(Note:this is different from rationalizing.I could ,very clearly belive that I'm remarkably handsome-without any rational explanation for the strange fact)Believe.And whenever see a person comin at you -usually sum smart alec wit a vendetta against God(Nowadays its Cool to be an atheist)all u have to do is Smile enigmatically at him and say"Look I cant explain why i believe.i cant argue wit you I cant PROVE anything.But I believe"

Bloodless

2007-10-05T02:57:00.000-07:00

"Seven thousand four hundred and twenty one people died today"....
i feel nothin. i am cut,but i do not bleed.WHY DONT I BLEED....?
shake me,hurt me,i wanna bleed.i SHUD bleed.i shud feel SUMTHIn.religon ,morality-everything tells me i shud bleed for these ppl-ppl i do not know,people i have never met. i shd feel pity.i feel nothing-NOTHINg.i.am.detached.Am i human...?is it human to feel nothin..?I open my eyes-i see -chaos,confusion around me.A stampede-faceless people-maimed.i am them,and yet i am not them.i am n a void-and all that separates me from them-is myself.But,if i were to see,one face,just ONE face in that crowd-even for a MILLISECOND-of a person i know-whom i care about,anyone of my frends...i would throw myself into the stampede-and save them,or die tryin.Even the slightest cut then-wud bleed me dry.Where did the emotion come from...?WHERE...?where did it go..?where...?Am i human...?Human, if i bleed-even unto death for the pain,no matter how small,sufferd by what is mine.And if i am detached,when it is not of mine...?am i human...?tell me..

Home

2007-09-28T03:20:00.000-07:00

"im goin home ..to a place where i belong ...where the love has always bin nuf for me"
Atlast .After nearly a month of travellin..im home..Oh yeah..home...this one's for u .ya know folks ..ive travelled a lot..a helluva lot...i mean seriously .i dont think there are a lotta places i haven bin to at sum point of time..but ..lemme tell u this...there ant no place like home...no place..there aint no feelin u get ..like the feeln u get when ure comin home..u know..its kinda funny ..everytime i say this ...people imediately gve me a sceptical smile...theyre all like..yeah yeah ..v know..heard it all bfore...let me tell u .these ppl ..they dunno squat...homes home brother..as simple as that....its this feelin...of completeness..of shud-be ness...that everythin is as it shud be .and will always remain so ..and ure bak..that the ppl u know ...and love ..are there ...the things u left bhind are still there...mebbe not in form..but in spirit.....that quite literally...the love thats always bin nuff for u ..is still there...it hasn gone..after a cold stranger...a beautiful stranger mebbe....but .. a cold stranger nonetheless....after her....home is bliss...yeah baby ...im home.

Feminism

2007-09-17T04:54:00.001-07:00

Feminism.Ah.The magic word.i hate it.talking bout feminism is lke talkin bout poverty.Theres no point.Heres what i think.Feminism is overdon.it is overemphasized in areas in which it has no rite to be overemphasized-and in those places that it is actually needed-its miraculously absent.U.Feminist.Where were u ?Female infanticide.Where were you ?Sati.Dowry.Child Marriage.Where the HELL were you ?All u can bleat about is girl power.And how the so called enterprising "new"woman is bein exploited by men.The ole "being denied of your rights(spits) trick".FITE u coward.Dont u dare come up to me and tell me that the city women are denied their rites.Dont u dare come up to me and demand that u be given reservation for jobs over the heads of far more competent people jus cos u are a woman.I will turn my back and walk away.I dont give a damn whether ure a woman or a man.I will employ you based on capability.Not on ur sex.Work for those who really need it.To the arrogant self righteous patronizing feminist-Screw urself.To the one who wants to help remedy some of the issues discussed above.My good wishes.Rest in Peace.

Turnin Eiteen

2007-08-23T04:34:00.000-07:00

The reason i was scared of turnin eiteen...was cos i kinda felt..i wasnt ready...i mean ...i duno whether other ppl have felt this too...but i kinda imagined myself different when i was eiteen..physically yeah...mebbe a lil taller...a lil slimmer...whatever..but generally too..Bottom line ... i felt i wasnt ready..mebbe i thot that the world wud ask for more from me now that i was an adult...or that i wud have to be more mature...weird eh?I quite literally had to be dragged into my eiteenth year on this earth...Hmm...kinda like a Peter pan Syndrome i think..The boy who never wanted to gro up..why...?cos to remain a kid..is to remain carefree..to expect everything..and have nothing expected from u .....when i expressed this view to a frend..she lukd at me oddly and said that she thot that me of all ppl wud have achieved more than enuff by now...but ... dunno really...have i bcome eiteen.?the eiteen i wanted to be....?i think i imagined...that on my bday...i wd get up ....and in the mirror ...id see sumbody different...or mebbe id splash sum water on my face...and voila....id be the guy i wanted to be..supposed to be accordin to me... mebbe im short by a few months..ah well..i aint gonna spend time moonin bout it..no wories..for better or for worse..im eiteen now..no longer a kid....its time to grow up...Sho me what uve got world...

Facing Competition

2007-08-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

This world is mine for the taking Make me king, as we move toward a, new world order...The whole world is ur playground mate.....U were born into this life..to win...not lose...Got that ..?...there aint gonna be anyone better...never was...never will be...any competition u see.....crush it ...by makin urself better...u gotta be the best..THE BEST... you hear me...?theres no other...u WILL do it...there are guys who come to me and say...We've got competition here....I think im gud at smthing...but theres always somebody whos better...and i dont know if ill ever be as gud as them....A technique i use bfor competitions..i ask myself...Who are they ....?Who the HEll are they ...?who are they after all.?.....theyr only human...everybodys human...u think those jerks who are "better "than u ...u think they dropped from the sky or sumthing brother....?U can be better than them...U GOTTA be better than them...Kill yourself ...work urself to the bone...learn from their mistakes .....But do it....improve urself...u aint gonna be jus s gud as em...ur gonna be better...have faith man....jus keep tellin urself this...theyre human...jus human...and u can do it...Work ur a** off.....so whatchu still doin here.....?

2007-08-12T08:44:00.000-07:00

My reasonin bhind the cryptic statement i made a few blogs bak that music...is a drug.
They say music can alter moods and talk to you But can it load a gun for you and cock it too?..... everybody just feels like they can relate I guess words are a m(*^&(*&r, they can be great Or they can degrate, or even worse, they can teach hate"...A dude listens to a song...and he goes...yeah...yeah man...that song was sung for me...THATS what im talkin bout...see...tere are other dudes whove had to deal wit the SHIT that i have....very fine so far...empathy is gud...Feelins shared ...feelin halved and all...but what happens ...what happens...?when u dont know where to draw the line...?when ...mebbe.....ur life isnt all that effd up....and u jus force the broken pieces into the niche of the song....?..the song says..theres no hope nemore...isnt there....?theres no joy in life....isnt there....?.and the song says...its better to end it...screw it man...kill urself...when u come bak..ull have it better...n u start thinkin..ya know....yeah he was rite ..i'll come bak for sure...in the next lfe...so why dont i jus finish it now...?sayanora....Know where to draw the line mate...LISTEN to me...the song's not bout u ...GOT that ...?no matter how much u think it is...twas sung by sum other guy...and no matter what u mite think u and he arent the same....theres always a difference...n he aint God ..the solutions he's offerin arent RITE...theyre jus what workd for him...they wont work for u ..music man...gud servant...but ...baaad.....Dont dive in...and lose yerself...

2007-08-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

A discushn i was havin yestrday set me thinkin....
Are we divided into neat freaks and slobs....?what makes a neat freak tick newez.....?ima self confessed slob.....My room luks like Katrina tuk a rong turn after New Orleans ...At any given point of time u can find assorted wires ,buks,CDS Medicines pens bedsheets pictures all over the place.... my mum however...is a neat freak....Ive bin watchin her and ive come to the conclusion that it actually causes her physical discomfort to luk at the mess in my room...she even asked me once...Dont u feel the need to clean up...?Doesnt the untidyness bother u ...?truth is ...it doesnt ....Tell you one thing tho..we slobs .....we accept that its difficult to find sumthin when ure in a hury ...i for one will the first to admit that if it wasnt for my mother ..god bless her ...i wudnt find a blinkin thing in my room...but then ...the question is.....why dont we clear up ...?whats the problem here...?strange init...leave a Neat freak in an untidy room for a while and ull see what im talkin bout....they cant STAND the clutter...heres a theory....Its psychological...they cant stand chaos disorder anywhere..it disturbs them...unhinges them...and so ...like some weird magnt thing...they start clearin up....strange eh..?while we slobs....we aren disturbed by chaos at all....we're cool wit it..totally...yeah...im startin to make a weird sorta sence....i reckon ive invented a cast iron case for remainin slobbish for a long time yet...cheers mate...
Footnote...My idea of clearin up involves Throwin half the rubbish out...and the other half into a cupboard...and hey presto....Id be innerested to hear a neat freak's take on the issue...

2007-08-08T04:26:00.000-07:00

Say guys...i have a request....if u read my blogs...and u agree/disagree wit what uve read...leave a comment eh...?it helps ....cheers
O and another thing...ive bin asked by a frend o mine...bout how come my blogs are all in net lingo....my frend reckons it wud enhance the richness of the blogs if they were rittin in a more...shall v say ...formal stye of ritting...This led me to an important point....
we have bin conditioned....we have been conditiond to think that whatever is old...is automatically better...better than what we have today...Old architecture is better...oh he's a gud artist...but not as gud as Da vinci....a gud riter ...but not as gud as Shakespeare.....i read a buk once "The fountainhead"...by Ayn rand..i recomend u read the buk.heres a bitta philosophy fro that ...the buk is set in an age when architects were fallin over themselves to imitate past architectural styles...an architect was lauded for the number of Classic(Gothic, French etc)styles that he cud incorporate inti his design...there were architects...and there was Roark..Howard Riark was a man who blieved tat a building was gud...bcos it was gud...bcos it fulfilled the purpose for which it was built...period ..end of discushn..Skyscrapers wernt ugly monstrosities..they were a smart man's solution to a problem..Im not sayin Shakespeare was bad...Or that Da vinci didnt know how to paint...but ...dont let their achievements be a Standardisn factor....judge everythng based on its own merit...not how much it has imbibed from a so-called master's work..they were gud fo their age..now this is our time...Dont reject net lingo cos its a corruption of sumthin that was folowd a hundred years ago...i have read Blogs rittin in pure net lingo that are as powerful..to me atleast..as any old text rittin in the most proper of English....eloquence is not Speakin fluently in a language no one follows...its speakin fluently in the language everybody follows..

2007-07-30T19:49:00.000-07:00

theres this group of elitist hypocrites among music lovers....mostly theyre the metal heads...for these i have two words ...grow up.....u do ot know music....else u wdnt accept one type of music...and reject another....im not talkin bout specific songs here.....i understand ppl not likin a song bcos they cannot relate to its sentiments....but what i cannot understand is ppl dislikin an ntire genre on principle.....Who the hell are u man...?what gives u the rite ...to PRETEND that one type of music is inferior to another.....u sum God brother...?dont luk down on those who like a different type of music to u ...bigoted fool...every type of music is a sacred thing..sacred to the one who wrote it...sang it...sacred to the one who listens to it...u cum in here with ur half baked sense of music...and start dissin rap hip hop and trance jus bcos U think its beneath u ...WHO are u ...?u have no rite..no rite to diss msic u have not botherd to appreciate...everything ...EVERYTHING is music....an expression of feelin..i admit u may ot be able to relate....i hardly xpect u to like "Ridin Dirty" or whatever...but..ull realise this when u get older...perhaps ..i hope so anyways...for ur sake...Every bit of music ...comes from an ocean.....and to reject an entire river.....is to sho ...ignorance..bigotry...ad a lack of culture...

2007-07-30T19:34:00.000-07:00

Its bin a while innit.?Last post was qute a whle ago..my apologies..ive bin a bit busy..newez..ive bin meanin to rite bout summat for a while now...ok...here we go.....
Music....ill be frank wit u ...i dont get hi on weed pot hash beer or any other thing for that matter...but i do get hi on music...its like a drug...i know drug isnt the rite word here...or mebbe it is ...a lil mor on that in my next blog...newez...music is my solace..my safe refuge..my haven..when the problems of the world get too much for me ..i find comfort in music...heres the thing....music is alive..it has a soul...it can alter moods..make u cry ...make u weep..make u feel brave...the kind of music u listen to ..defines u .....tell me the music u listen to ...and ill tell u the kind of man u are.... i cannot imagin life without music...life without it ...aint worth living brother....u want poetry...?forget Shakespeare...forget wordsworth....listen to the brilliant ppl out there in the world TODAY..rite here rite now...Isnt it jus amazin ..the way somebody uve never never met...can write words...and a tune...that seems like it was written for u ...and u alone.....music is like that glove theyre always tryin to invent...a glove that fits perfectly ..no matter ...who u are....what uve dun....it fits....Fits so well u wanna say...Im home...

2007-07-20T06:44:00.000-07:00

u know..whenever i go for a competition...or an exam....or anything that i consider importan for that matter...i prepare ...i prepare...till i cant prepare anymore.......i prepare till ive reached a point when i know ...that ive done ...everything...everything in my power...to make sure i do NOT fail at whatever it is im goin to do.....heres an example to ilustrate my point....In my tenth ..board exams... i got ninety percent...while this may seem like a lot to the casual observer....those who knew me..who knew the way id studied..\the track record i had maintaind...knew it wasnt what i shudda got...after the boards......all my frends....what happend ...?what happend....?howdya lose those marks.....?..hmm...i reckon they imagind id spend sleepless nites tossing and turnin....thinkn bout how come i didnt get more...but the truth is...i slept perfectly fine..thank u very much....cos i knew...i knew i had worked..to the maximun ....i knew i cud not hav done more....after that ...what happend is outta my control.... hear that ...?what happens is outta ur control.....try followi this for a while ..teme what u think.....give it ur best shot....then ...n only then ...will u not have regrets later.....there is nothing worse than a troubled conscience...the feelin that u cudda got more had u tried harder....

2007-07-20T06:32:00.000-07:00

theres this song...quite a popular number...has an interestin lne.....the first part goes somethin like.."yesterday is not in ur hands"...how many ppl actually get this ....?i wonder....yesterday is gone mate...accept it....theres nothing ...NOTHING u can do bout it....yesterday u failed at something.......can u do ..anything...to change it ..?can u change time...?nope....let itgo ...theres nothing else u can do.....learn from it....promise urself that wont make the sae mistakes again...promise...and then let it go...let it go....the second line goes something like ..."tomorrow isnt in ur hands either"....again another thing ppl fail to get....one can neve pedict the future...so why waste time in tryin...?one must dream ...yes...but u musnt forget to live.....It doesnt do well to live in dreams Harry....and forget to ...live....what will happen ...wll happen ....all u can do is live ..for now ...this moment...this second...and thats the last line..."All u got in ur hand ...is the present"...Dont waste it....act ...do something...learn from the past....act with full knowledge of what ur actions will most probably result in.....live for the moment...

2007-07-18T09:19:00.000-07:00

ive received a lotta feedback regardin my last article....and thot id use this one to clear up a few things....let me make this clear.....i never regret the factthat the acident occured....i sincerely blieve to tis day...and never have i found a reason to change my blief that everything happens to us for a reason...it us upto us....to turn whatever has happend to us to our maximum advantage.....we must never give up ....we are Human..i Solemly swear that i will never allow anything that happens to me to ever bring me down..every obstactle is a challenge i have yet to overcome...every hardship ive to bear...had to bear...will have to bear...it makes me a stronger person...a better person...i will never give up..no matter what happens...i will keep on living..i once rote an article for the skul magazine..i do not know if it was ever published...but still ..the crux of the point i was tryinto make is this..our scars-may they be big or small-invisible or visible...-define us....they make us who we are...it us upto us how we wear them...i wear my scars wit pride...how do u ...?

2007-07-17T05:14:00.000-07:00

i coudnt see in one eye....i cant see in one eye....my left eye is useles...cyclops...yeah thats me...and my other eye....seventy five percet blind ...thats me as well....wanna know my power....?its plus seventeen...ironic isnt it....?the same as my age...hey wats ur power....?its the same as my age...no really..?yeah ...really...please dont ask me my power when u see me...i hate that surprised luk in ur eyes...then the sense of pity ...i hate the pity.....i know its only natural...but still...i never wanna feel leser than u ....i will..i will do everythin better...so that no one ever thinks of me as handicapped....i will be the best ...the best that i possibly can be...thats a decision i made a longtme ago....that time in the hospital...changed my life...by y then i wasnt a stranger to hospitals...had already fractured my arm earlier u see....still have a scar on my left wrist....try to hide it wit my watch...now u know why i always prefer big watches...in the beginin..i used to think...mebe...God has punished me ...u know...like id commited sum big sin...and thats why i broke my hand...and then id probably commited a bigger sin.so i met wit the accident...but my five year old self ..cudnt accept that...i began to think ...mebbe it was like a pre payment...mebbe im gonna comit some big sin later on..so God punished me in advance....but now...i know better..i know that the accident while it scarred me for life...made me the person i am today..it developed my interest in readin ...and hence my English improved...confined to be indoors..i still am not allowd to play many sports..ive developed an interest in music....al in all...God changed my life that day...i believe it was....for the best...

2007-07-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

The rain ....i remember the rain so well...it was nature's special effect...i think ...later on ...it made the entire incident seem surreal to me....it eased the pain....there was so much rain...rain in torrents...the road was slippery...the car....driver in the front ....along with the boy......parents n sister in the bak...drivin on the way to Madurai....a screech of tyres......losing control......then ....crash .. a lorry.....fractured images....Glass ...mucus...blood...so much blood....my entire face is coverd in blood...whose blood is it..?they told me later that the entire windshield had shatterd n fallen on my face...whers my father..?.My father..?...fractured images.....my father's anguish..Oh god no...Dear God no...not my son..my son.....being held by him.....then blackness....images flashin thru my head....i never knew long i spent in hospital....six months....?eit....?..flashes....nurses.....its so sad....such a young boy....holdin my fathers hand n walkin down the corridor....dont wory...u'll see...God is there...Daddy will I see.....?..U will...surgery after surgery...the anasthaesia..a horrible sensation in my throat...mummy no i dont want that feeling again..tell them to stop..please...a sense of bein lifted...then nothing...findin myself..bak in the ward...struggln for everythin...have to feel my food...cant see...anything...ANYTHING...its so dark...why is it so dark...?where has the light gone.....?God ....?DAD....?MUM....?

2007-07-09T04:15:00.000-07:00

i feel used......like im sum tool.......hey theres the tool...we can use him as such as v want....then forge tto thank him...infact better yet conveniently forget that he did the work at all ..jus use....n throw...like im sum cheap disposable....what do u want from me...?does nobody care bout what i want...?what i wanna do ...?what i wud sell my soul to do....?i deserve to do the thing i wanna do...ive earned the right...so LET ME DO IT...Im not a MACHIne for u to call upon when u like n discard when u have no further need....i have feelings too.......well no more....manage without me...ive had it ...nuff is frickin nuff....go figure.....u dont wanna lemme do what i wanna ...ill find sumone wholl let me...tata...this is the last....

2007-07-08T05:55:00.000-07:00

once bitten ...twice shy...now thiso one is fo the gals.......ugotta move on...there is no other way...i know ..i know ive heard it all.......why take a step off the ledge ....when ure pretty sure ure gonna fall....when every relationshp uve bin in has tot u that to step off the ledge is to fall....but then ....heres what ive discoverd....make damn sure.....make bludy damn sure.....and then when ure as sure as u can be...jump...thats it ..take a flyin leap........cos unless u jump ...ull never know the pure joy of bein able to fly...unless u blive u can fly...ull never jump.....u gotta ...u gotta ccept the fact that the past is gone...there aint no other way...he did what he thot he had to do..misguded he may have been.but hes gone now...n jus mebbe ..theis one will be better....u gotta hope.....we can only hope n dream...too tired of bein let down....?....there is sumbdy out there...there hastto be ....i wont let there not be.....why shud i be dprived of the happiness i see others havin...i wont be...who are u ...?i will find u ...

2007-07-08T05:40:00.000-07:00

once bitten ...twice shy......so tru.......there are so many ppl i know....some of them gals...well most of them gals....who have bin treated badly by guys...lemme dvote this blog to the guys in question...may these bastards rot in hell...i mean ...if u wer planin on dumpin the pore gal...why go to all the trble in the first place.....?..and dont give me all that shit bout not knowin that shed be like that and all...?make sure u bozo...dont play wit hearts ..theyre the most fragile organ in the human body....jus who do u think u are huh >>>?some self appointed god...?or king...?or casanova...?u'll fal in love when u want ...?and fal outta love whenever the hell u want....?..leavin her wit a broken heart...broken dreams ....broken xpectations...for puttin her trust in a worthless sht like u ...?do u know where uve left her....?at a point when se cant move forward....and cant move bak...thats where...think bout it....

2007-07-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

everybody wants....sumthin ...always ...sumthin ...do this ..do that ..get that done..organise that ...sumtimess......jus soo tired.....cant u get sumbody else todo it ...?am i the only one....but im tired....i am i tell u .....i thot id escaped ur reach..but u still want stuff done.....why cant i say no.....?why CANT I JUS SAY NO....?i cant ...i cant ...why ...? am i afraid that to say no wud make me less in ur eyes...?is that it ...?...but ...im soo tired....n still i say ..."yea..."......ill do it ...sure....no problem..it wont kill me...yeah rite....more work...?no problem at all ...dish it out ....n choose the colour of the coffin please...i find black so ...boring....

2007-07-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

"i am not afraid to keep on living...i am not afraid to walk this world alone...."....why are u afraid ...u are very afraid....u dont even know how afraid u are......u are afraid of the standards that society exacts....the pressure.....of lukin gud.....of bein gud.....of bein thot of as cool.....and so u hide ...mask urself...beneath layers n layers of what can b best called "filth"...for it is not u ...u dont want the world to see u ....for ure scared...so scared...that the world ...wont like u ....will see u as worthless....but dont u see....?by cloakin urslf....u are only endorsin the fact that u are worthless.....that u are not gud nuff for the world......well lemme tell u sumthin...the world isnt gud nuff for u ....refuse to accept its standards.....make ur own ..higher ...better......then ...n only then can u truly live......why this pressure ...?why do v feel insecure when v are alone....?..

2007-07-07T07:11:00.001-07:00

what is it wit u .....?u think it wasnt me .....?that it was sumbody else....?the time i spent...selectin...workin my ass off...does it count for NOTHING....?...is ur memory so short.......?what bout all the tme u spent.....?when i listend to u ...complainin bout the work v were doin ...n how u didnt like it...?...had a complete turnbout have u ....?n why dont i say sumthin when u appropriate all the credit....?ALL the credit...?not to u ...not to me.....what stops me sayin something...?i say nothig...nothing at all....is it bcos i fear that to interject wud be to show my ego...?or is it bcos itoo have begun to secretly doubt my hand ....?watever it may be....i may doubt my hand in it ....but i will NEVER never doubt the work i put in ...for u ...for us......and all i have to show at the end of it ....is thanklessness.....and memories.......the memories...they will have to do ....good meories...i think we were all better then...

2007-07-07T07:11:00.000-07:00

is ur happiness defined by whom ure wit...?are u that shallow....?....can u not be happy without him/her wit u ....?why do make the ppl aroud u feel like shit by askin for sumbody else when theyre not there......the other mans grass is always greener mate.....remember that ....u think that side is cooler...then go b there...b done wit u ...dont take our lives out by bein here n bellyachin...tata...have a nice day...dont forget not to call...

2007-07-06T22:23:00.001-07:00

...i cant do any more...i cant do ANY MORE u hear...?i try to luk the best i can ..for them...and if u want more...go die....go DIE>.......i wish...i wish/...v had no physical form...that v were merely clouds...of thots feelings...intelligence...so that we didnt have to ALWAYS...be conscious of how we luk...of how vr dressed....of how everybody else seems to luk better.....nacissist....?i am....society is reponsible in part....i am also reponsible in part...

2007-07-06T22:23:00.000-07:00

here i am ...bak again..this bloggin stuff is actually innerestin...no that anyone will read it ofc.......
.........wer is the intelligence gone....?where are the intelligent ppl in the world...everythin everyone seems to stay is standard....passe.....it is sooo long since i have met someone different...i am beginin to imagine that there are no different ppl left in the world.....everyone is the same...everything they say they have heard someone else say ...and they repeat like PARROTS.........why cant u b original......?is ur whole state of bein a FAKE>....?>...do u have to copy someone always.......?i have had it wit u n ur kind.......show me intelligence....something different....sho me intelligence for CHRISSAKE......where is ur brain.....u are a collection of copied thots ...borrowd from whoever u think is cool....and for ur info ...those ppl who u think are cool.....borrowd their thots from someone else.....

2007-07-06T22:01:00.001-07:00

why is the pressure of makin conversation.....soooooo effin HIGH....?why is it when two ppl sit together ...or three or four.....they HAVE to say sumthin.....even sumthin so dumb...so lackin in intelligence that it wud make a tadpole seem classy.....?why cant i jus sit......?let me be....i dont HAVE to say anything to u ....come to think of that ....u dont HAVE to say anythin to me either........dont u feel the pressure.......the presuure of cosiety....?drivin u to make conversation...to socialise....even when u dont wanna.....to laugh...even when u dont find a thing remotely funny.....to laugh even when u feel cut up inside.....WHY SHUD WE LAUGH.....?why shud we change to fit in....?but it iis sooooo hard....they want me to change ...to be like them.....i can feel my resolve leavn me.....they seem alrite......no....i tried that once....it brot me...nothing ...emptyness....thats is all......but their stares.....he is socially awkward...no no..dont approach him...(unless u need sumthin of course...).. he is a loner......yeah ....i am ...so what ...?let me be....

2007-07-06T22:01:00.000-07:00

I am detachd.I find myself surrounded by ppl...chaos ...noise....it is like being wrapped in bubblewrap and bein thrust into a limitless basket full of packages that dont seem to have any bubblewrap on them....everytime i try to poke a finger thru the bubblewrap....they look at me strangely...as they wud at a child who is makin its first attempts at speech...but does not yet know how to say anything recognozible to them...they do not understan....or they do not hear.....i hate them not hearing.......i think to myself ...i shud spk up .....but then ...i wonder....is it worth the effort......?
Why arent there others like me.....?.....where is the bubble wrap on u ....?......why are u so open.....?do u want the whole world to know bout every insignificant detail of ur life....?